Portrait Of Love
by M. Elizabeth Ravensblood
Summary: Jack and Samantha cross paths at a museum gala when a strange twist of fate sends them back to the 1700's. Skewed romance set outside of canon.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: The painter mentioned in this story is one of my own invention. His name, Jacque de Tous Commerces is the closest French translation for Jack of All Trades that I could come up with that sounded like a real name. There is an actual word in French that means a jack of all trades, but it didn't sound right hence my more literal word by word translation of the name. Anyone who speaks this beautiful language properly, please forgive my abuse of it. Reviews are always appreciated. Also when the website is launched in the next couple of weeks, you will be able to actually view the Commerces painting which I created to accompany the story.

Chapter 1

This was without a doubt one of the worst weeks of her life, Samantha decided. It had started off horribly and seemed destined to end just as badly. At the start of the week, a tabloid newspaper ran a front page article about the deaths of Tom and Coop with the headline 'FBI's Black Widow.' As if that hadn't been bad enough, Angel had her set up for two blind dates, both of whom stood her up after reading the headline. All Sam wanted tonight was to soak in a bubble bath and binge on some chocolate. Instead, she was dressed to the nines at a museum gala, with the Bailey, John, and Angel.

The gala wouldn't have been too bad, but John had over indulged, hit on her and was having a rather vocal row with Angel. Sam had tried to get Bailey to intervene, but Bailey had shrugged it off and was imbibing heavily at the bar himself. Tomorrow when Bailey and John were nursing their hangovers, Angel would undoubtedly blame Sam for John's roving eye. There were times when Sam wondered why she was friends with these people and tonight was one of them.

It was very warm in the museum, the gathering was quite large as the elite and the social climbers jockeyed to view the rare Newquay art collection. Miriam Newquay, wife of the late Senator Andrew Jackson Newquay had lent the family's impressive art collection to the museum to raise money for charity. The Newquay family was purported to have one of the largest private art collections in the world. With connections to several of the royal families of Europe and wealth that would turn a Medici green with envy, the Newquay gala was supposed to be the social highlight of the year. The oppressiveness of the heat getting to her, Samantha made her way to a verandah along the side of the museum to get a breath of fresh air.

Samantha wasn't the only person having a bad evening. Albert Jackson Newquay, known as Jack to friends and the Jack of All Trades to the VCTF, was furious. He hated the hypocrisy of society and found social mendacity a bitter pill to swallow. His mother was having a grand time, she was in her element. Jack was annoyed that he'd let her bully him into lending his Jacque de Tous Commerces to the museum. The Commerces painting was one of his most prized possessions. An 18th century masterpiece of a woman who could have been Samantha's ancestor, surrounded by lush red roses. The colors were so vivid, you could almost smell the roses and feel the velvety softness of the petals.

Standing in the darkness, Jack leaned carelessly against the elegant white balustrade railing and lit a cigarette. Staring up at the black satin sky as he inhaled, he reached for his champagne glass he had balanced beside him. Exhaling a wisp of smoke into the air, he tossed the contents of the glass down his throat in disdain. He wished it was something stronger, God knew he needed something to get through tonight's charade. He thought of the flask of whiskey in his jacket, but decided to hold off. A loud sigh escaped his lips.

"Bad night?" an achingly familiar feminine voice asked.

Jack turned around slowly. Seeing his Samantha, a smile curled around his lips as he answered, "I remain optimistic."

Samantha walked closer and studied the handsome stranger. Whispers of custom tailoring and wealth emanated from his tuxedo. His eyes appeared nearly black in the dim light and his mouth had a cruel sensuality about it. Unlike his counterparts inside the museum, this man had power that had nothing to do with wealth. Authority and control radiated from his sinewy body and an almost preternatural intelligence gleamed in his eyes. He would have been menacing had it not been for the tiniest trace of vulnerability in the velvet depths of his eyes. Normally, Sam would have walked away from a man like this, but the frustrations of the week made her feel reckless. Hell she was the 'FBI Black Widow.'

"May I?" Samantha inquired flirtatiously reaching for the lit cigarette in his hand.

He looked a little surprised and then nodded. "Please do."

What the hell was Samantha up to? Jack had been shocked and pleased when he saw her. But this was a side of Samantha he'd never seen before. It was surprising, yet far from disagreeable he decided as he watched her lips close sensually around the cigarette. Years ago she'd quit smoking for Tom and now tonight she was smoking for Jack, albeit unknowingly. After exhaling, she took another puff and then held the cigarette to his mouth. He took the offering between his lips, relishing the taste of her lingering on the paper. He took a silver flask from his jacket and offered it to her as he tossed the last ember of the cigarette over the railing.

Opening the flask, Sam took a sip and let the whiskey burn down her throat. "Jack?"

For a moment he panicked, then realized she was referring to the alcohol. "Yeah."

Taking another sip before returning it, Samantha thanked him. "I appreciate it, after the week I've had I needed that Mr.-"

As he returned his flask to his jacket, Jack hesitated and quipped, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Romeo and Juliet? Well I guess we are on a balcony of sorts," she laughed.

Boldly, Jack pulled her in his arms and continued his Shakespearean bent. "Call me but love and I'll be newly baptized. Henceforth I will never be Romeo."

Slight concern crossed her mind but was rapidly pushed aside as she embraced the moment's enchantment. "And if you aren't Romeo, who shall you be?"

Considering for a moment, Jack moved his mouth close to hers, his lips a heartbeat from hers. "I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself."

Knowing this was a once in a life time opportunity, Jack pressed his lips against Samantha's. At first his kiss was tentative and soft, then deepened with sensual abandon. Sam opened her mouth against his, encouraging him to continue his lascivious plunder. Self recrimination for her shameless behavior flitted in her mind and was rapidly banished by Jack's skilled tongue. Flickers of desire began to course through her, when he lifted his mouth from hers, she found herself pulling his mouth back to hers and drawing him closer.

Without knowing his name, her voice of it's own volition issued an invitation Samantha had never uttered in her life. "Would you like to go somewhere? I'll have to say goodnight to some people, but-"

Jack pressed his lips against hers, his arousal teasing promisingly against her thigh as he panted, "God. Yes."

For several moments the continued to kiss. Their hands growing more bold in their explorations. Both were breathless and trembling as they finally forced themselves apart.

"I think we'd better make our good-byes before I forget myself and have my way with you right here and now," Jack said, lifting her hand and kissing it reverently.

"You're right, my friends have a way of showing up at the damnedest times," Samantha agreed. She felt light headed and her knees were practically jelly.

"Shall we," Jack suggested gently, gallantly offering her his arm. Jack forced himself to maintain his composure and to put his social mask on before entering the museum. Tonight could be the answer to his prayers...


	2. 2

Chapter 2

With difficulty the pair made their way through the crowd, trying to find the people they had to say goodnight to. Bailey was still at the bar, tossing back scotch and Jack stood slightly back as Samantha bid her boss goodnight and said she was leaving with a friend. Once they were away, Jack put his arm around her again, they spotted a small break in the crowd and made their way to a less crowded area to search for John and Angel. Jack looked around to make certain no one was looking and pulled Samantha up against him and leaned his back against a marble column. She tilted her head and drew his lips to hers and rubbed teasingly against his hardness. Samantha felt more more aroused by this man in a few minutes than she'd ever felt in her life. Both were panting, caught up in the moment when a voice intruded.

"What are you doing?" Miriam Newquay demanded.

"Mother, this really isn't the time-"

"No it isn't!" she interrupted him. "This is unacceptable conduct in public."

"We were just about to leave Mother," he said then held his hand up as she opened her mouth. "And if you push at me, I'll have the Commerces removed first thing in the morning from the show."

"Very well. Good night, Jack," Miriam muttered stiffly.

"Sorry about that," he apologized to Samantha.

"It's all right, she reminds me of my mother-in-law." Then she added seeing Jack's raised eyebrow, "Former, I'm a widow."

"Let's finish saying goodnight to people and get out of here," he breathed against her neck, trailing kisses.

Samantha scanned the crowd and spotted John and Angel, "There they are over by the painting with the roses on it."

They walked to the painting and by the time they'd waded through the throng of guests, John and Angel had moved.

"Why don't we wait here for a moment and if they come back I'll say goodnight, if not, then we'll just leave," she suggested.

"Of course," he agreed.

They stood in front of the painting for several moments, appreciating it's beauty and subtly trying to caress each other. After a few minutes, Jack coaxed her behind a column that was a couple feet away and pushed her against it. Again his lips sought hers and she whimpered with need. Both were completely caught up in the sensual spell of one another, as he allowed his hand to briefly brush her breast.

"God I want you Samantha," he whispered sibilantly as his tongue caressed her throat.

"And I want you Jack," she murmured in his ear as she traced his earlobe with her tongue.

Suddenly it dawned on her, she hadn't told him her name and his mother had called him 'Jack.' Samantha pulled away slightly and looked up at him. It couldn't be, could it? Jack of All Trades couldn't be the charming and sexy stranger! A slightly nervous look crossed his face and her fears were silently confirmed in his eyes. She stepped back, uncertain of herself and what to do. He slowly moved towards her.

"Samantha," he implored in front of the Commerces painting.

Her eyes darted from the painting of her doppleganger to him. Sam felt sick and angry that he had known all along. At the same time, she felt disappointed having to end the evening. God, she thought. The sexiest man she'd ever met was the man she was supposed to hate. This really was the worst day of her life. Jack grabbed her in a last ditch effort, just a the sound of shots and broken glass rang through the air.

A number of waiters and some non-descript men in formal wear, whipped out guns and began to fire into the crowd. One man was quite near Jack and Samantha, raised his gun to fire. Realizing the man was intent on firing the gun, Jack placed himself in front of Samantha to shield her as best he could. With a deafening sound the gun fired and the bullet whizzed through the air. It tore through Jack's back and out his front and into Samantha, blood from both spattered onto the priceless painting behind them. For a moment their eyes met and the pair clutched one another as they collapsed to the ground. Shouts, screams and gunshots rang throughout the room. The wounded pair held hands and stared at one another as darkness began to overtake them...


	3. 3

Author's Note: Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 3

"Mademoiselle!" an urgent voice called through the darkness. A voice demanded in French, "Wake up Mademoiselle! You must wake up!"

Slowly Samantha opened her eyes and sat up. In front of her was a young woman in a long black dress that looked very old fashioned. She was speaking in a torrent of French that was something about returning to a party. Sam wondered if she were dreaming and stood up to walk away from the strange woman. Taking a couple steps, Samantha stopped suddenly as she caught site of herself in a long gilded mirror.

Sam stared at her reflection and blinked. She to was wearing an old fashioned gown and her hair was caught up in diamond and sapphire hairclips. Looking at the pale blue silk gown, she began to panic slightly. No dream had ever seemed so real before, she could feel the silk between her fingers and smell the scent of the candles that burned on a stand next to the mirror. She had to wake up, this dream was simply too bizarre! Maybe if she walked through the door she would wake up or at least have a less disturbing dream.

Opening the door to a large and elegant hallway, Samantha began to run. Something was very wrong here and she had to get away. Suddenly she collided with a firm masculine chest encased in silk and velvet. Strong arms wrapped around her and a familiar set of dark eyes looked down at her. For a moment Sam looked at him, trying to place where she knew him from. He wore all black except for a white cravat and blood red roses embroidered on his waistcoat. Roses? Even the scent of roses clung to him. Memories came crashing back to Samantha of the museum earlier in the evening and the handsome stranger who was... Jack!

"Jack!" Samantha cried out and collapsed against him as dizziness overtook her. She struggled slightly as he dragged her down the hall and opened a door. Gently but firmly he forced her inside and shut the door behind them. Sam scowled as he urged her to a chair before the the fire and he sat on a footstool before her. Although she had no idea of how he managed this, this was hands down the most bizarre scheme he'd ever pulled.

"Samantha-"

"Bailey and my friends will find me!" Samantha declared in a cultured British accent, then clamped her hands over her mouth in horror. "What have you done to me?"

"What makes you so certain I deed anything to you?" Jack retorted in perfect English that had a light French accent. "Samantha I have no idea how we got here, but yours is the only face I recognize."

"Aren't a lucky!" she snapped acidly.

"Samantha, we appear to no longer be in a time that is our own and while I might envision you this way in my dreams visually, your actions would be a great deal more pleasant, so I feel confident in saying this is not a dream," he drawled in his lazy French accent.

"Of course this isn't your dream, this is my nightmare and I want you out of it!"

He arched an eyebrow at her and sighed, "Perhaps if you're going to be this difficult, I should hand you over to your father."

"My father? I thought you said you didn't recognize-"

"I don't Samantha. The man I'm speaking of isn't Walter, but since everyone in this house is French except for the Englishman in the study who just signed a marriage contract for his daughter, I'm assuming he's your father here."

"Marriage contract! If you think for one moment I would ever marry you, you're even more insane than I ever thought!"

Hurt flashed briefly on Jack's handsome face and was quickly masked with amusement. "If I may suggest my dear Samantha, take a while to review your situation. According to the marriage contract, the year is 1710 and while your irritating friends may constantly rush to your rescue, time travel is probably beyond their scope. If you are so repulsed by my company that you would rather be entirely on your own in a time when women have no rights, then please be my guest. Your father was just telling me how relieved he was to have his debts settled by marrying you to a handsome young aristocrat, that if it weren't for my proposal he'd have to marry you off to a man over seventy!"

Samantha looked horrified as she considered Jack's tirade. She didn't want to marry anyone but did she really want to be separated from the only person who knew who she actually was? With a pained sigh, she replied, "Fine! But I won't sleep with you. I can't imagine anything worse than having you er assert your marital rights."

At that Jack laughed and moved from the stool to lean over her. He poised his mouth over hers and murmured seductively, "And yet you seemed so anxious to be in my bed earlier tonight."

Samantha scowled up at him, "That was another century."

"Maybe," Jack sighed softly before pressing his mouth to Samantha's and kissing her with slow and deliberate sensuality. As he stood up and walked away he heard her cry of outrage. Without turning his back he opened the door and called back to her, "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't."

Samantha stood up and screamed in frustration, grabbed a priceless vase from the mantle and threw it at the door as it closed. From the hall Jack's laughter echoed hauntingly...


	4. 4

Author's Note: Gaspar-Francois is the true name of the Marquis de Sade's grandfather, as to whether he really shared his grandson's proclivities I don't know but I used artistic license. Reviews are always welcome.

Chapter 4

After several angry minutes, Samantha calmed herself and ventured out of the room. She didn't want to cooperate with Jack, but given the circumstances it would seem there was little choice. If there were going to find a way home, they would have to stick together. But in an era where women were property and needed protection, the only way Sam could be near Jack without prying eyes would be if they were married. She hated that Jack was right and even more she hated that he was the man who'd aroused her so intently earlier that evening at the gallery before they were shot.

Shot! The memory suddenly hit Samantha, previously she had only remembered as far as Jack's balcony seduction and her unfortunate discovery of his identity. Briefly, she wondered what would have happened if she hadn't discovered the truth. They would have been undressing one another by now instead of being in the 18th century and the attackers at the museum would never have shot at them. Looking down at the expanse of flesh at the top of her gown she seemed unscathed, but then she wondered about Jack. The image of him placing himself in front of her, to shield her from the bullets, flitted through her mind. Suddenly the memory of falling to the floor with him came back and the continued sound of shooting.

Walking as fast as she could in the voluminous dress, she made her way down the hall. At last it opened up to an immense staircase and she could hear the sound of music emanating upwards. Gathering up her skirt, Sam made her way down the steps and stopped at the site of the lavish ball. A kindly looking elderly man, came forward and offered her his arm. Uncertainly, she placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her into the throng.

"I just finished signing the marriage contract my dear," the man informed her in a clipped English accent. "Your mother, God rest her would have been so proud of you."

This must be her father, she decided. "When is the ceremony to take place?"

"So anxious to leave your old father?"

"No, of course not," Sam replied giving the appropriate response.

The man smiled and shook his head. "It's quite all right Samantha. When you first set your cap for a frog I had my doubts, but it's obvious the Viscompte is as in love with you as you've been telling me you were with him for the last two months. I'm quite relieved matters were resolved without marrying you off to that sot of a squire that lived next door."

Sam smiled weakly and said, "Me too."

"One matter which should please you my dear, the ceremony is to take place in three days time."

"Th- three days?"

"What's wrong?" he father asked then smiled. "Oh you're just so surprised. When I told your Jack how anxious you were to wed him, he immediately relented on the traditional betrothal length and agreed to the date you wanted."

"How wonderful." Forcing a smile, she grabbed a champagne glass from a passing tray and downed it rapidly. Then grabbed another to the shock of the servant.

Across the room, Jack made his way slowly towards them through the crowd. His hair like Samantha's was unpowdered. The honey colored locks coupled with his black clothing and it's small scarlet dash on his waistcoat, made him stand out against the pastel and powdered crowd. Even in this era, Jack had a predatory grace about him. Several women approached him and he spoke to them politely, but his eyes never left Samantha. At last he stood before Samantha.

Taking her hand to kiss, he whispered softly, "Your father is going to make the announcement now. I suggest if you can't pretend to be overjoyed, at least try not to look so hostile."

As he reached into his coat and brought out large ruby ring, Samantha plastered a dazzling smile on her face and hissed, "Marriage to my stalker, what more could a girl ask for?"

Jack placed the ring on her finger then pulled her close. "This!" he retorted and brought his lips down hard against hers.

A gasp went through the crowd as the couple violated several rules of propriety. Sam's father cleared his throat loudly. Jack lifted his mouth from Samantha's, smiled at her father, then winked unabashedly at Samantha. Rapidly her father made the announcement and glasses of champagne were raised. As people surged forward to congratulate the pair, Sam clutched Jack's arm tightly as they were cornered by well-wishers. A man in a red satin coat and a silver vest came near them and Jack's senses went on high alert.

Placing an arm around her shoulder, he murmured in his slight french accent, "Samantha, the man in the red coat, I've seen him somewhere before."

"Was he at the museum?"

Shaking his head, Jack answered, "No. But I know I've seen his image in a book and I believe he could be trouble. Until we're certain of who he is you will under not speak to him. Do you understand me?"

"We aren't even married yet and you're already ordering me around?!?"

"Please trust me on this."

Samantha rolled her eyes and walked away. Spying a series of doors that lead to a balcony, she moved towards them. Unintentionally, she bumped directly into the man Jack said to avoid. She froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. Jack had been so emphatic, but she could hardly run into someone and walk away.

"Pardon me, Sir."

"Not at all. I am pleased to meet the beautiful bride of the Viscompte. I am Gaspard-Francois, an old friend of your betrothed's family," he informed her with a disarming smile and took her hand to kiss.

"Nice to meet you. I was just heading out for some air," Sam explained.

At that, the stranger grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed her one. "In that case allow me to escort you outside."

Jack scanned the crowed for Samantha's blonde hair and grew nervous when he couldn't find her. Perhaps she went to her room in anger or outside. Although he understood her distress, they were in no position for petty arguing. This was a volatile and dangerous time for anyone and women in particular. Taking hold of his future father-in-law's arm he inquired discreetly, "Have you seen where Samantha is?"

"Saw her with some chap in a red coat heading outside."

"God damn it to hell!" Jack swore and pushed into the crowd.

A man dressed in servants attire, asked, "Is something the matter, Monsieur Vicompte?"

"Probably. Do you know who the man in the red coat is?" Seeing the man's surprised expression, Jack added, "I just got engaged, my mind isn't where it should be."

"That is the Gaspar-Francois, Marquis de Sade."

Less than one full day in the 18th century and Samantha was in the clutches of the grandfather of the future Marquis, who would learn everything he knew from Gaspar. Jack ran across the ballroom, pushing his guests aside as he made his way outside...


	5. 5

Author's Note: Thank you for all the kind reviews and emails, they definitely inspire me to update. I don't know if Gaspar actually was good with a sword, but it fits well in the plot, so he is now. As always reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 5

Samantha sipped her champagne and looked up at the sky for a moment. This just couldn't be happening. Earlier she'd been at a museum in Atlanta in the 20th century and now she was somewhere in France in the 18th century. As though time travel and wasn't bad enough she was stuck with her mortal enemy as her only ally. Things simply couldn't get worse, Sam decided as she half listened to the gentleman in the red coat who had accompanied her outside.

Gaspar-Francois, moved closer to the young blonde and smiled. The fiancé of the Vicompte Jacque de Tous Commerces was apparently oblivious to the fact she shouldn't be unchaperoned and that suited him just fine. The Vicompte angered Gaspar, just by his very being. The Commerces fortune would have come to Gaspar-Francois had it not been for Jacque. Wealth and good looks had given the younger man higher consequence in society than his superior title. Though women were of little consequence beyond a man's pleasure, his host seemed enamored with his betrothed. What better way to bring the man down than to take his fiancé?

He grabbed Samantha and started to yank the bodice of her gown down. Vainly she struggled trying to knee him in the groin, her petticoats limiting the motion and padding him against the blow. Sam's hair clips came out and the elaborate coif fell about her shoulders.

Sam begged and demanded he stop, but Gaspar merely backhanded her and left bruises on her shoulders as he grabbed her. The door flung open onto the verandah and Samantha used the moment's distraction to break away, clasping her dress closed and ran into a very angry Jack.

The other doors onto the verandah opened and guest poured out to watch the tableau unfolding before them. Jack pushed Samantha into the arms of her father and stepped towards the Marquis. His body was trembling with rage as he moved forward. The Marquis watched the younger man with amusement. He may not have gotten to have the Viscompte's fiancé, but as of this night both of them were ruined. Gaspar was the finest swordsman in all of France and none had dared to challenge him in quite some time.

In a low voice that dripped venom, Jack seethed, "In my house, you dared to try and touch what's mine."

The Marquis shrugged and smiled, "Only giving the lady what she asked for. You should have heard her begging for it."

"No one insults my Samantha!" Jack bellowed over the din of the crowd.

"Are you challenging me?" Gaspar smirked. This was turning out even better than he'd hoped, if he could kill the Viscompte in a duel of his own challenging he could kill the young upstart for financial gain and without causing a scandal.

"Swords at dawn Marquis!"

"To the death?" Gaspar inquired tauntingly.

"Is there any other way?" Jack countered a frightening smile on his face.

The Marquis paled slightly at his host's bravado and informed him he would bring his seconds. With excitement the crowd murmured about what had just transpired and men began to make bets as to which man would make it out alive. Most felt the odds were in the Marquis' favor, though a few thought Jack would succeed. Several ladies eyed Jack with undisguised hunger at such a bold and romantic gesture. Jack took several deep breathes, his mind racing wildly.

Turning to the crowd Jack spat out, "GET OUT!" As guests stared in disbelief, he took a step towards them and added, "NOW!"

Exhilarated by the evening's entertainment they left the estate in their coaches buzzing. No matter what the outcome the Commerces engagement and duel would be the only topic of conversation for weeks. As the guests were leaving, Sam tried to talk to Jack, but he simply held his hand up to silence her and her father held her back slightly out of concern. Jack disappeared into his study with two servants and Samantha pulled away from her father.

"Jack-"

"In a moment," he told her then turned to the younger of the servants. "You understand my instructions?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Stop for nothing and speak to no one of your errand. That includes my fiancé's father in particular."

The younger servant nodded and ran from the room. At that the other man told Jack, "You can rely on us, Sir. We'll see to it that your wishes are carried out."

"Excellent. You may go," Jack dismissed him and stood up. Nervously he looked at Samantha and began to pace.

"Jack what's going on?"

"What's going on is I'm seeing to it that you will be cared for and have an opportunity for freedom when I'm gone from this earth."

"I don't under-"

Jack poured a glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter and swallowed it. "I really wish you had listened to me, Samantha. Although I couldn't remember Gaspar's name, I recognized his picture from a history book. When a servant told me who the man was I came running to your aid."

"So who is he?"

"That was the grandfather of the Marquis de Sade and one of the greatest swordsman in the history of France," Jack sighed and sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose slightly.

She put her hands on her hips and demanded angrily, "What in the hell were you thinking challenging him like that then?"

"He touched you Samantha and your honor was compromised. What would you have me do?"

"You've got to be joking!" Exasperation mounting, Sam told him, "You have to put a stop to this."

An ironic smile twisted Jack's features. "My Samantha, the board has changed, but the rules of the game remain the same."

"Jack-" she trailed off. Why was she arguing with him? Sam should be overjoyed at the prospect of his imminent death. Instead, memories of his lips on hers sprung to mind.

"I have dispatched a servant to Calais to book passage for you and a maid to America and arranged for another servant to conduct you and a large sum of money safely to the ship. New York or Philadelphia should be relatively safe and am sending enough money with you to set you up in the highest echelons of society. If you remain your father may try to marry you off again. Present yourself as a widow and you will have the greatest freedom a woman is allowed in this era."

As Jack poured another drink, Sam pleaded, "Jack won't you please call this off?"

Tossing the whiskey down his throat, Jack stood and took her chin in his hand. "No my Samantha, not even for you my love."

He started to walk away and Sam cried out. "Jack!"

"Yes?" he turned in the doorway to her.

"Is there anything I can do?"

For a moment he contemplated asking for a last kiss. Instead he replied lightly, "Pray."

Jack walked away and Samantha sank into a chair...


	6. 6

Author's Note: Will try to update next chapter later today and the duel is soon, I promise, Silver. Reviews are appreciated and make me type faster...

Chapter 6

After demanding a servant direct him to the library, Jack began to scan through the titles. There was a book on fencing which he picked up and began to leaf through. No real chance that he could come out of this alive, but God damn it he wouldn't go without a fight. Jack had seen many swordfights in old movies, but never had lifted a sword in his life. If by some miracle he made it through this entire ordeal, he was going to start adding to his repertoire of fighting skills. He tried to be prepared for every possibility, but time travel had never been one of them.

Jack took the book and grabbed a foil from a case on the wall and headed for the ballroom. Sitting the book on a small table in the empty room, Jack began. He held the sword in his hand and moved his arm slowly, getting a sense of the weight distribution in the gleaming silver blade. After becoming used to the feel of the weapon in his hand, he opened the book to an illustration and removed his coat and vest. Jack began to advance across the ballroom practicing attacks and parries.

He paused when he reached the end of the room and began to slowly carve a priceless tapestry that hung on the wall. The sword gleamed in the candlelight and the blade hummed as Jack began to move the blade faster. This was a good start, but he really needed to see how the blade went into flesh. Fabric was a great starter for testing a weapon, but Jack needed something more sanguine. His life would end in a few hours, but his blood was not the only that would be spilled. What he needed was to practice on something live.

Sword in hand, Jack walked out of the ballroom and spotted a servant. The man had fallen asleep on the job and startled awake as Jack grabbed his arm and demanded, "You! What is your position here?"

"I'm a second footman, Sir."

Perfect, Jack decided, the man had no consequence and a slight resemblance to the late Tom Waters was an added bonus. "How would you like an opportunity to advance your station in life?"

"Me?"

"Indeed. Come with me," Jack ordered and opened the door to the ballroom. "Who is the magistrate in the area?"

Looking confused, the man replied, "As owner of the estate you are."

"Thought as much."

"Now what?" the servant asked anxiously. His lordship was acting oddly and he wanted to get his promotion before the nobleman changed his mind.

A smile twisted Jack's lips and he raised the rapier. With a sharp thrust he drove the blade into the man's chest. "Now you die."

Jack watched the man's last breath with satisfaction and was about to practice on the body further when he was interrupted. Samantha had decided to look for Jack and found him in the ballroom standing over the body. "Jack! What did you do?"

"Terminated his employment," Jack shrugged and flicked the sword against the man's arm studying the play of the blade in the flesh.

"You killed him!"

"Did I?" Jack mocked in his light french accent. "I guess I did. What do you want Samantha?"

"I had come to make one last appeal that stop this nonsense-" she trailed off as he made another cut on the body. "What are you thinking?!?"

"I'm thinking I would have been better off taking fencing instead of ballroom dance that one semester in college," Jack replied slicing the body again.

Exasperated, Sam sighed, "I meant what are you thinking killing someone at a time like this and why are you mutilating the body?"

"I need to be able to accurately gauge the amount of pressure required to cause damage effectively. Now, just give me a couple moments and we'll talk, but I have to finish practicing before rigor sets in."

Sam sat down in silent fury and watched her mortal enemy slowly eviscerating the still warm body of the hapless footman. All these years of finding the aftermath of Jack's kills and now she was watching him. She should have felt repulsed by the tableau; but instead found herself mesmerized by the rapid grace with which he worked. Above his lip a tiny drop of perspiration sparkled like a diamond and her body betrayed her as thoughts of his lips on hers played enticingly in her mind. Standing up she forced herself to look away and began to leave the room.

"Samantha," Jack called her back.

Steeling herself, she turned around and replied coldly, "I can't stay and watch this."

Jack walked up to her and studied her face intently. This was the last he would see his love and even to the end she hated him. "You needn't leave Samantha. I'm quite finished. Soon you will be free of me once and for all."

She struggled to find words as he brushed past her, but couldn't find any as he disappeared up the staircase. Free of Jack, once and for all? Life without Jack had always sounded so appealing, now faced with the prospect she felt hollow. Samantha had never felt more lost or alone in her life, then she did at that moment. For years, Jack had been a constant in her life. Granted, he was a dangerous one she'd resisted, but a constant nonetheless. She would be alone if Jack died. Not only in this time, but in her own time as well Samantha realized...


	7. 7

Author's Note: Reviews are always appreciated and make me type faster.

Chapter 7

As Jack searched for his room, he paused to inform a servant of the slight mess he'd made in the ballroom and for someone to clean it up. There were, Jack reflected, some advantages to the 18th century and not having to worry about forensics was one of them. He opened the door to his room and went inside to change. Stripping his shirt off, he thought about his Samantha and hoped she would be all right. Though she was likely thrilled with his imminent demise, he didn't like the idea of her being unprotected, Jack decided as he finished undressing. Standing naked before the mirror he noticed the absence of the small scar from Samantha's bullet. Jack's finger traced his tautly sculpted flesh where the wound once had been.

Searching through drawers, Jack scowled at the satin knee breeches and reluctantly selected a pair. As he tossed the expensive garment on the bed, his valet entered and looked horrified at Jack's carelessness. Even naked, Jack could be quite intimidating, as his hands went to his hips and he gave the servant a glare of displeasure. The valet paled slightly, but insisted that the Master sit down and allow him to retrieve the rest of his clothing for him.

Jack sat down on the opulent bed and waited impatiently for the servant to assemble his clothing. He dressed rapidly refusing the valet's offers of assistance and causing him further consternation by refusing to wear undergarments under antiquated garments. When he fought in a while, Jack wanted as much freedom of motion as possible. When the valet started bringing Jack shoes, he contemplated killing him. Pair after pair of curved heels were brought for his inspection.

"I'm going to be fighting a duel, not dancing a minuet. Bring me something sturdy and practical," Jack demanded. At that moment he would have given half a million dollars for a pair of jeans and his Doc Martens. The outrageous fashions that both genders sported among the aristocracy were completely impractical. After selecting the plainest black leather shoes he apparently owned, Jack smiled as his valet got further upset by his refusals of hair powder and cosmetics. Christ, all these years he'd thought he would die of old age with his Samantha or in a blaze of glory and bullets, now he was going to be skewered by a pervert wearing more makeup than a drag queen!

There wasn't time for regrets, Jack decided. Leaving the room he headed downstairs. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of his Samantha, but she didn't appear to be about. It was probably for the best that they not meet again. Those sweet fevered moments at the museum when she had clung to him were what he wanted to take to his grave. Jack was grateful to have held Samantha in his arms even once before his life was over. He walked out of the manor and headed through the misty early morning air towards the small chapel that stood a short distance away. Before he drew his last breath he had to make his final confession.

As Jack entered the chapel, he was met by a young pinched faced priest who had obviously just woken up. Just before dressing Jack had ordered that the estate's priest be woken to hear the Master's confession. A slight smile curled around Jack's lips as he contemplated how to tell the man of scores of murders that he committed centuries later. Best keep it simple, God would just have to understand the slight inaccuracies due to circumstances.

"Should you like to go into the confessional?" the priest inquired.

Jack informed him, "I think we'd better stay out here, I get claustrophobic and this will probably take quite a while.":

"Shall we then?" the priest pointed to a bench.

After a genuflect, Jack started, "Bless me father for I have sinned. It's been," he hesitated then continued, "quite a long time since my confession and I think we'll leave it at that."

"Very well," the man sighed. Then asked pompously, "What are your sins?"

As Jack spoke the priest grew wide eyed and began to shift nervously as Jack detailed murder after murder. The man was white as a sheet and grateful when Jack told him they were through all the deaths that he could remember, although he was quite sure he'd left another half dozen or so out. Then the priest turned scarlet red as Jack began to confess his sins of lust involving thoughts of Samantha and the barrage of women he'd used in her stead. The priest could bear no more and just stood up and shook his head and walked out of the church when Jack began to recall some of the murders he'd forgotten.

Sam walked out of the ballroom and stood on the verandah where Jack had challenged the Marquis. Staring off into the night, she thought about Jack and the rapidly approaching duel. Would he really die? For a long time he had stalked her in shadows and she'd wanted him gone from her life. Was that still what she wanted? No man had ever aroused Samantha as deeply as Jack had at the museum. Even now after seeing him carving up a corpse, she burned with the memory of his kisses and found herself craving more.

But it was more than simple lust that gave Samantha pause. Jack had issued the challenge knowing the man's skill and assuming he would die. Up until earlier tonight, Jack had always worshipped her from afar, courting her with puzzles and roses. Previously, with the aid of physical distance, she had been able to dismiss Jack's overtures and pretend they were meaningless. In Atlanta, pretending to be unaffected by Jack and to fake the expected emotions had been simple. Tonight in France, his romantic gestures couldn't be so easily dismissed.

For the first time in years, she was free from the prying eyes of her well meaning friends and the secret part of her that she hid from them was dangerously close to the surface. Every day she pretended to be Sam Waters, loving mother and agent; but that was just it, it had always been a pretense. The only part of Samantha that felt true emotion, was the dark and secret part that only Jack seemed to know about. His sibilant whispers on the phone, his roses and his notes at crime scenes touched her and that was what truly terrified her about him. Jack scared her because he knew parts of her that she was too scared to and he wanted her to embrace those parts of herself.

Samantha felt an ache in her heart as she considered life without Jack in it. Walking along the verandah she saw a patch of climbing roses on the house, she remembered Jack once telling her he would wither away without her. Now Samantha found herself wondering if she would wither away without Jack. She walked down the steps at the end of the verandah and began to meander across the lawn. Sam knew she needed to try and find Jack, she had to talk to him before it was too late. After all these years, he deserved to hear the truth, even if it was at the very end. She was about to turn back to the house to try and locate Jack when the priest came stumbling and muttering towards her.

He crossed himself as he declared in outrage, "That man is beyond evil Mademoiselle. When he dies today, you will have to look to someone else to bury him, for I'll not be party to such sacrilege."

The man continued into the night and Samantha decided she had a good idea of where to find Jack. She walked to the small chapel slight amusement at the holy man's look of horror rapidly dissolved into anxiety as she approached. Mist swirled gently about the ground heralding the approach of dawn and Sam closed her eyes, vainly willing the night to stay. What could she say to the man who had been in her life for so long, just before his possible demise? Uncertainly, she opened the doors and entered...


	8. 8

Author's Note: We're starting to get into some angst, but all will be well. Reviews make my fingers fly over the keyboard.

Chapter 8

Jack was sitting where the priest had abandoned him facing the front of the small chapel, when Samantha entered. Without turning around he knew it was her, having committed every nuance of her scent and the sound of her footsteps to memory, long ago. He resisted the urge to walk up to her and plead for a final kiss. Jack had but a little while left in his mortal coil and he intended to do so with dignity.

"Samantha," Jack breathed softly, remaining perfectly still.

"How did you-"

A slight smile crossed his lips. "When it comes to you, my Samantha, I always know. But how is it you found me here? Or is it merely coincidence?"

It was Samantha's turn to smile as she explained, "I met up with the priest and got a pretty good idea that you were here."

Jack rose from his seat and walked towards her. "Shall we continue this discussion on the way to the house? It's slightly chilly in here and I don't want you getting ill when antibiotics aren't yet in existence."

Unthinkingly he offered her his arm and mentally kicked himself as soon as he did, fully expecting her to rebuff him. To his amazement her arm wound around his and she allowed him to lead her towards the house. Not a kiss, but her touching him civilly and voluntarily knowing who he was, was a moment to be treasured. Jack nearly fell over in shock as Samantha asked, "Are you scared? I mean about if you-"

"Am I afraid of dying?" Jack offered. "Not really. I'm concerned about leaving you alone, but other than that, I am not especially disturbed. Maybe a little annoyed at the timing and means."

"Oh," Sam replied weakly, uncertain of what to say. She wished she could think of something comforting to say, but everything that came to mind seemed trite and pointless. What could she say? They walked into the house and he immediately relinquished her arm. Sam was left standing in the hallway as Jack went into the ballroom for his sword. As she stood alone waiting for his return, she saw the first glow of the sun pour through the windows. Time was dwindling away, with every moment Samantha's heart began to ache a little more.

Jack returned to the foyer, rapier in hand, the blood wiped off and the blade shined wickedly. He coaxed the gleaming blade into the jeweled scabbard that hung around his waist,. As she watched, Samantha paled as an image of a similar sword piercing Jack's heart flashed before her. Having played their game so long and brilliantly, it was horrible to imagine it ending this way.

Noticing her pallor and the slight glint of tears in Samantha's eyes, Jack assumed she was scared about being alone in another era. He tried to reassure her, "You'll be fine my Samantha. I have no doubt you'll manage quite well without me."

The fact he was trying to comfort her, made the hurt even worse. Even now faced with death, Jack put Samantha first and the gesture touched her to the very core of her soul. Tears began to fall as she grabbed his arm and pleaded, "Please call this off Jack. Don't leave me alone like this."

"No Samantha, I have to do this." A bittersweet smile twisted his mouth as he told her, "As for being alone, were possible to die of loneliness, I would have been cold in the grave many years back. Just as you would have my Samantha had you ever admitted how isolated you've always been."

"Jack, I-" Samantha tried to speak, as he brought an embroidered handkerchief from his coat and began to dab her eyes. Staring into his dark eyes she felt the first true understanding she had from another human being in ages. He was right that she was isolated and now there seemed little chance either would ever know anything else. Sam forced herself to pull back slightly from the torrent of her emotions and to consider Jack. If he could put her first at such a moment, she owed him as much.

What could she do or say that would bring him even a small degree of happiness or comfort? Samantha wouldn't insult him by telling him she loved him because even though she now saw the potential, it would ring false with him. Jack had loved her, pursued her and was now prepared to fight to the death for her. The answer dawned on her as he lead her outside. As the sun brought the much dreaded day, Samantha wrapped her arms around Jack's neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

Noticing his shocked look when their kiss finally ended, she told him, "For luck."

A servant in the Marquis' livery rode up and informed Jack that his Master awaited him in the clearing. Samantha turned away as Jack spoke when a trail of climbing roses caught her eye. Her mind racing rapidly, she tore a blossom from the vine and wrapped it in the handkerchief. When the servant was gone and Jack turned back to her, she tucked the embroidered square inside his coat. She knew he wouldn't accept any tokens from her, so she took care to conceal the flower within the folds of the cloth.

"As soon as the duel is over, a servant will bring you word Samantha, but I don't want you there. It will distress you too much and distract me."

"Very well," she nodded reluctantly.

With a wistful sigh, Jack said, "I guess this is it."

Sam wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. "Promise me you'll come back."

Jack hesitated wavering between a kind lie and the truth. He settled for pressing his lips to hers one last time. "Good-bye my Samantha."

As he turned and walked away, Sam began to pray silently for her former enemy. Once he was out of sight, she walked into the house and sat on the bottom step. As she buried her face in her hands, she failed to notice her hand was bleeding from having been pricked on the thorns when she picked a rose for Jack...


	9. 9

Author's Note: I tried to keep the dueling terminology simple, but here is a link for a glossary of fencing terms: 

Reviews are greatly appreciated and encourage me to write faster.

Chapter 9

Jack smiled as he walked towards the clearing where the duel was to take place. His Samantha had kissed him, knowing his true identity. Death would be well worth it for that one moment alone, though he wished there had been time to savor the moment. But neither death nor hell itself could ever take away the moment where his Samantha had truly been his. The feel of her arms around him would carry him to the grave in peace.

The clearing was filled with a large audience, as many of last night's guests came to watch the duel. Amongst the gawkers, the Marquis stood, looking bored in an eggplant colored suit that was reminiscent of John Grant's leather jacket. The reminder of the VCTF clown brought an unholy expression of glee to Jack's face. Maybe he would die for his Samantha's honor, but Jack was going to have some fun first. He swore to draw blood from the man at least once before it was over.

"Ah Viscomte, I wondered if you would show," the Marquis sneered. "Personally, I don't place much value on women, but your whore must be quite something if you're willing to die for her. Do you think I should call on her when you're gone?"

Jack became enraged as the man continued to snipe at him and insult Samantha. No man had ever spoken that way of his Samantha and lived to tell the tale. Barely contained fury that threatened to consume him, Jack's facial muscles ticked slightly. Familiar with a sword or not, Jack was more than ready to begin. As Jack removed his coat and handed it to one of his servants that was there to attend him, his eyes narrowed to fiery slits as he pulled a pair of leather gauntlets onto his hands.

A strange man appeared at Jack's elbow, "Viscomte Commerces, I am Comte Andre Dupres. The Marquis asked that as you have no seconds that I mediate. Is that acceptable to you?"

Jack shrugged indifferently, "Fine."

Comte Andre stood in the middle of the clearing and spoke loudly, "Gentlemen, you will stand back to back, with your swords in hand and on my say so you will walk five paces. Then, turn and salute before presentation of your blades. Although the match is to the death, you must stop if I tell you to, until I order re-engagement. Any questions?"

Both men shook their heads. The Marquis handed his coat off and stood before Andre and turned his back to Jack. Jack stood calmly as the Comte ordered them to begin walking. As the paces were counted off, Jack strode forward, sword in hand. At the end of the five paces, he turned to face Gaspar. In the early morning mist, the two men faced each other and saluted.

Andre stepped back and declared, "En Garde."

Instantly both rapiers were in the air and blades were presented. Jack stood gracefully with his left hand behind his waist as he brought his sword up with his right to block the attack of Gaspar's blade. Movement was slow to start as the men warmed up and gauged one another's fighting style. Gradually the blades began to sing and the play between the swords sped up. The Marquis made a lunge with his sword that Jack narrowly deflected from hitting his waist. Countering with a balestra attack, Jack nearly managed to hit Gaspar's shoulder.

The crowd murmured and took bets as the men moved back and forth in a volley of thrusts and parries. A surprise riposte by the Marquis resulted in a shallow slice to Jack's left shoulder, leaving a crimson slash of blood on his white shirt. Rapidly he recovered and again engaged his blade with Gaspar's. The two men circled around one another and the echo of metal on metal reverberated through the clearing. As the pair fought the crowd became more animated and excited, the Comte had lasted far longer than most had against the Marquis.

In an elegant and deadly dance the Jack and Gaspar attacked and parried with near lightning speed. Although he was fighting hard and could have equaled or surpassed the Marquis with time, Jack was fighting an uphill battle. He blocked many of Gaspar's attacks and came close to hitting him several times, but the Marquis had the upper hand and made several lacerations that destroyed his waistcoat and left his shirt bloodied and tattered. One of the attacks pierced Jack's midsection and it bled profusely. Comte Andre asked if Jack wished to pause for a few moments, but Jack merely shook his head and continued to fight. The end was drawing nearer, the duel had gone on for just over an hour and Jack was beginning to tire from exertion and bloodloss. Just make Gaspar bleed for Samantha and he could surrender to the inevitable, Jack decided as his opponent's blade came down across his face.

The battle continued as Jack struggled to avoid further injuries. Then,Gaspar made a false attack and when Jack moved to parry, he was left vulnerable to the Marquis' blade. With a sharp lunge he brought his rapier towards Jack's groin. Jack got a deep cut to his inner thigh, that only narrowly missed hitting his femoral artery and manhood. Blood coursed down from his satin knee breeches to his white hose, but Jack didn't pause. Angered by the low blow, Jack pretended to be in pain, crouched and put his left hand to the ground. The Marquis raised his blade high, intending to kill him, when Jack brought his rapier up in a passata-sotto attack and flicked the blade across Gaspar's face.

The Marquis stumbled backwards in shock and brought his free hand to his face. Loudly he demanded Andre intercede.

"Arrete," Andre gave the order to stop.

Jack obeyed lowering his blade and through his injuries gave the Marquis a look of contempt over his fuss over the slight injury. As Gaspar's servants attended him, Jack was irritated that this would be the man to finish him. All these years as the world's greatest serial killer and a man who couldn't handle a single blow was going to finish him. Hell it would be less humiliating to be killed by Sam's young daughter Chloe.

He stalked over to his coat and pulled out a cigarette, he'd found tobacco and cigar paper in the desk last night, so Jack altered it slightly. One of the servants rushed forward to light it, though he looked at it strangely. Jack exhaled smoke from the crude nicotine, gratefully and he reached back into his jacket for his handkerchief to wipe the blood that was dripping into his eye. As he pulled out the embroidered square, he caught the scent of roses and paused. Must be blood loss he decided, dismissing the scent as wistful thoughts of his beloved. Opening the cloth, Jack's heart turned over and he stared wide-eyed at the deep red rose.

It wasn't long stemmed as the roses he gave, looking at it he could tell the blossom had been torn rather than cut. Spotting the drops of dried blood on the white cloth, Jack knew Samantha had grabbed the blossom and placed it surreptitiously in his coat. His Samantha had given him a rose! Seeing the drops of her precious blood, Jack realized after all this time, his Samantha had finally touched the thorns. Whether she was aware of it or not, she had accepted his love and returned it when she bled for him. Jack's heart soared and he pressed his lips to the cloth.

As joy surged through him, the wounds no longer seemed to hurt as the adrenaline began to rush through his body. His Samantha loved him and she would be his at last. Looking down at his bloodied torso, Jack dismissed his injuries. If he could survive his Samantha's bullet, he sure as hell would survive an effeminate Frenchman with an oversized knife! He was THE Jack-Of-All-Trades and he wasn't ready to give up.

"Hey Andre!" Jack called out. "Is the princess ready to fight again yet? I want to get home in time for lunch with my fiancé!"

The Marquis felt slightly uneasy as he caught the maniacal gleam in the Viscomte's eye. Only a few moments before he could read the resignation in the man's eyes, but now, there was an unholy gleam to them. Gaspar nodded assent to Andre and the Comte ordered the pair to walk five paces again and then resume engagement. Jack strode confidently with his sword in hand and a smile on his face. As the pair turned to face one another, Gaspar got a sinking feeling.

As the Marquis and Jack resumed fighting, the tables began to shift. No longer was Jack struggling to keep up and to deflect attacks, now Gaspar was the one who was struggling.

"Who the hell do you think you are that you would even have a chance against me?" the Marquis demanded, trying desperately to distract his opponent.

"Me? I'm the Jack of All Trades." Jack laughed punctuating each word with a vicious blow that Gaspar struggled to block.

Jack began to advance rapidly pushing the Marquis further and further backwards across the clearing. His Samantha had given him all the inspiration he needed and now he was on fire as he manipulated the rapier with a fiercesome dexterity. As the Marquis retreat and parried desperately, Jack continued to lunge and attack . With each motion, Jack became more comfortable with the sword and grew more confident in his movements.

The flash of swords sped up to the point their movements were no longer discernible as the metal rapiers flashed repeatedly. Gaspar became nervous as lunge after lunge of his was parried effortlessly by the Viscomte. As they fought, Jack had a frightening smile on his face that the Marquis found disturbing. Desperation rising, Gaspar abandoned the rules of dueling and moved close to his opponent, engaging in full body contact, he attempted to command Jack's blade with his free hand. Now that the Marquis had broken the code of dueling, Jack was free to do so with impunity, his own honor in tact. Within a heartbeat of Gaspar failing to seize the sword, Jack relieved the Marquis of his. When he advanced with both blades, the Marquis fell backwards, sprawled on the ground.

Jack stood over the Marquis and brought the tip of his blade to the man's neck and rested the other against the man's thigh. With an almost bored tone, Jack informed him, "With a slight touch to your jugular or a press of the blade on your femoral artery, you would die within minutes."

Noting the terrified expression on Gaspar's face with satisfaction, Jack flicked the blade that had been near his throat upwards and sliced off his earlobe. As the Marquis grabbed his bleeding ear he howled in outrage, "Are you insane?"

"So I've been told," Jack replied nonchalantly. Then he said in a low voice dripping with venom, "The next time we meet, you will scream apologies for my Samantha."

Turning away from the Marquis, Jack picked up the rose and handkerchief. Blood loss was beginning to catch up to him and for a moment his step faltered. The Marquis snickered behind him. Jack paused to hand the precious blossom to a servant, then turned rapidly throwing Gaspar's sword without a moment's hesitation. The blade struck the ground between the Marquis' legs missing his cock by less than an inch.

"Your sword," Jack told him and bowed mockingly. He turned around, took Samantha's rose from the servant and walked slowly out of the clearing towards the house. His blood loss was substantial he noted as he walked, but Jack didn't care. Seeing his Samantha was all he cared about. Dizzy and aching, Jack walked up the steps of the manor and opened the door.

As he walked into the foyer, he spotted his Samantha sitting on the steps with her face buried in her hands. Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see him clutching her rose in his hand.

"Jack?" She rose and stared in disbelief.

"Honey, I'm home," Jack teased.

For a moment his eyes met hers, then he collapsed on the floor...


	10. 10

Author's note: Did my homework, there were animal blood transfusions in the 17th and early 18th century that were outlawed in the late 17th century, so the equipment did exist in crude form at the time. Reviews are appreciated and make me type faster.

Chapter 10

When Jack had walked into the foyer, Samantha had been torn between relief and horror, as her joy at seeing him was dampened by the disheartening site of his bloodied clothing. He had collapsed on the floor before her with the rose she'd hidden in his coat, clutched tightly in his unconscious hand. Quickly Samantha rushed to Jack's side and began to shout loudly to attract the servants. Worriedly, she noticed that his face was as white as the marble floor tiles. Impatiently, Sam waited for help as she took his hand in hers and felt his pulse. The gentle throb in Jack's wrist was soft but insistent.

"Mademoiselle!" a voice cried from the staircase. It was Jack's valet who came rushing down the steps to aid his Master.

"We need to get him upstairs uh-"

"Phillippe, valet to his lordship," he informed her and barked orders at several footman who had come into the hall. "Carry the Viscomte to his suite and do so carefully."

As the liveried men moved forward and lifted Jack, Sam reluctantly released Jack's hand. They lifted him off the floor and began to carry his limp figure up the stairs. Phillippe looked shocked when Samantha started to follow them. "Mademoiselle, perhaps you would like to go to your room and let your maid take care of you. You should lie down after such a great shock."

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam rolled her eyes in frustration. She began walking up the steps rapidly and Phillippe dogged along side her.

When they were at the door to Jack's room, the outraged valet made one last attempt to dissuade her, "This is highly inappropriate and your gown will be quite ruined unless your maid tends it immediately."

"Who cares about a stupid dress!" Samantha exclaimed. With watery blue eyes, she informed Phillippe, "The man I- My Jack needs me and nothing is going to keep me from him!"

Resignedly, the valet sighed, "Very well, but this won't be pretty Mademoiselle."

Sam accompanied him into the room and watched as Phillippe peeled the blood soaked tatters of Jack's shirt. Unable to stop herself, she gasped at network of lacerations that covered his chest and arms. Phillippe turned his head sharply and crooked his head toward the door, offering her the chance to leave. Shaking her head Samantha moved closer to Jack's pale form.

"Mademoiselle, if I may be so bold, might I suggest we consider not sending for a doctor."

"No doctor?" she asked in disbelief. Jack's unconscious body looked like he was in need of a trauma team.

"The doctor will treat him by bleeding him-"

"Oh God in heaven no!" Samantha cried interrupting him. The pale form on the bed looked like there was hardly any blood left in it. Jack looked frail from the alabaster color of his skin to the waxy appearance his lips had taken on.

"Then we shall manage the best we can. I must send the footman for supplies," Phillippe informed her and left her alone with Jack as he walked out of the room.

Jack lay motionless on the bed as Samantha took his hand. Squeezing his hand she was disheartened by the lack of response. Looking at him, she vainly tried to will his eyes open, but the remained closed, his dark lashes fanned against his ashen cheeks. Samantha was terrified by Jack's nearly cadaverous appearance. Moving closer to him, she clasped his hand to her heart and prayed, for the man who had haunted her existence and now haunted her heart.

Phillippe returned with and armful of white material and had several footman behind him carrying a variety of supplies. Dismissing the footmen, he started ripping fine linen sheets into strips for bandages. Seeing Samantha's worried expression, he held out a soft towel and gestured to the basin of steaming water one of the footman had placed by the bed. Relieved to be able to help, she began to dip the cloth in the water and slowly clean the blood from Jack's forehead. As Samantha slowly wiped the blood from his face and chest, the water turned from clear to crimson as she rinsed out the cloth.

Once the bandages were torn, Phillippe inquired as he prepared to cut off Jack's pants, "Are you certain you wish to stay?"

Nodding Samantha helped him pull the fabric from Jack's skin where the blood had dried and adhered it to his flesh. She suggested, "If you start bandaging him, I'll finish cleaning up the blood."

The valet was surprised by the suggestion but began wrapping his Master's torso. Samantha carefully cleaned the wound on Jack's thigh, it would definitely need stitching she realized as clearing away the blood revealed the deep laceration went nearly to the bone. Even if Jack pulled through, there would be a high risk of gangrene. Forcing her fears away, Samantha focused on the task at hand. Among the supplies that had been brought were needle and thread. She held the needle in a candle flame to sterilize it and rinsed it in brandy before attempting to sew the torn flesh closed.

Phillippe watched with admiration as he prepared to sew Jack's shoulder wound. When the English girl had insisted on staying he'd been shocked and imagined she would faint. But she had, to his amazement, managed to be of actual help. The Master had told him she was remarkable and now he could see why the Viscomte was obsessed with the Mademoiselle. As he stitched, Phillippe hoped the Master would recover so he could marry his beloved, Samantha.

Once Jack was cleaned, stitched and bandaged, they eased him under the covers. The valet busied himself with removing the bloodied supplies as Samantha studied Jack's face worriedly. There was little more that could be done except to wait and pray. Phillippe had a tray of tea brought for Samantha that she fussed with slightly as she watched intently for any sign of movement from Jack.

Towards evening, Jack had fallen into a restless sleep as he developed a fever and was wracked with chills. Samantha checked his bandages and had her worst fears confirmed as she saw the reddening around the wounds on his shoulder and thigh. Weakened from blood loss, Jack's body had been unable to fight the infection that seized it. Sitting with his head in her lap, she tried to get him to swallow some of the willow bark tea Phillippe had brought to ease the fever.

"He's so weak from bloodloss," Samantha looked up at Phillippe.

"Mademoiselle? I had not suggested it before because it would likely kill him, but we could send to Paris for a doctor to give him a transfusion."

Confused, Samantha stared at him, she thought they weren't around until the 20th century. "What sort of a transfusion?"

"Blood, Mademoiselle, few patients survive, but mayhap some sheep's blood would help."

Carefully lowering Jack's head to the pillow, an idea dawned on Samantha. Grabbing Phillippe's arm she ordered, "Send for the equipment and the best doctor in Paris, but no sheep's blood do you hear me!"

"But sheep's blood has saved more than dog or cow's blood," the valet protested.

"The only blood that's going in him is mine. Now hurry and send someone up with some ice from the icehouse right away!"

As the valet ran to comply, Samantha clasped Jack's shaking form to her heart...


	11. 11

Author's Note:At the end of the chapter are translations of the French phrases used, but it seemed to suit a fevered Jack. Forgive any inaccuracies in my French, I haven't used it much in recent years so it's rusty. Also, the medical condition mentioned, cellulitis is an infection underneath the skin, not to be confused with cellulite which is fat and most certainly not an issue for our hero. Reviews make me happy and write faster.

Chapter 11

Samantha tried desperately to remember any medical knowledge she'd ever learned which might help her save Jack. Most of her studies were for understanding killers, not saving them. As she waited for the ice, she tried to coax more willow bark tea into Jack, Sam did recall that is was the crude equivalent of aspirin, so hopefully it would bring his fever down. His flesh was hot and clammy under her hands as she held him. Even if the transfusion helped there was a good chance that he would lose his arm, leg or both due to the infection. Of equal and more immediate concern was the possibility of brain damage from the fever.

When the ice arrived in a large bowl, Samantha stabbed it with an icepick and started taking small slivers and rubbing them on Jack's lips. He was becoming dehydrated from the blood loss and his lips had begun to dry and crack. Hopefully as she fed him the melting pieces it would take even the edge off his fever. Jack thrashed and moaned in fever induced delirium.

He cried out, his French accent heavier in his fevered state. "Samantha-"

"I'm here, Jack," Samantha soothed gently and kissed his forehead. Taking another piece of ice she gently traced his lips, allowing it to slowly melt into his mouth. Brushing his hair back with her fingers, she studied his face with concern. His cadaverous pallor gave his chiseled features the appearance of a sculpture rather than a living, breathing man.

Jack winced in his sleep and whispered in French, "Maux. Maux tellement."

Samantha's eyes teared as she tried to comfort him, "I know darling, but try to rest. If you're sleeping you won't know how bad it hurts."

Dear God, it was unbearable seeing him this way, Sam thought. Her heart was torn into pieces as he whimpered in pain and there was nothing she could do to ease his suffering. As his agitation continued, so did Jack's fretfulness. Seeing Jack's pain, unwittingly pushed the memory of her shooting him to the front of her mind and Samantha ached to take it back. If he would only open his eyes, there were so many things she would change if he would give her the chance. Clasping his hand, she rubbed her cheek against it trying to derive some small measure of comfort.

Samantha wept as she held his hand to her face and sobbed over and over, "I'm so sorry, Jack. I'm so so sorry."

Her father stopped by to lecture her for her lack of propriety and demand that she leave, but Samantha wouldn't leave Jack. Phillippe tried to persuade her to get even an hour's rest in vain as she adamantly refused to move from Jack's side. When she refused, the valet brought her a tray of dinner which remained untouched. The fever wasn't getting worse but it wasn't getting better. Together they changed his bandages and Samantha felt discouraged when she saw the red around Jack's leg wound had spread out further marring his pale flesh.

With any luck the physician would arrive from Paris in the morning and the transfusion would help, but the infection was beginning to rage out of control. Unless the infection could be subdued rapidly, Jack would be very vulnerable to gangrene and that would mean amputating his leg. The thought of Jack being dismembered in an era without anesthetic was sickening and appalling. Samantha vowed she would end Jack's suffering herself before she would allow him to endure such a hideous ordeal.

Phillppe left Samantha alone with Jack again while he grabbed a couple hours sleep, but insisted that Mademoiselle send for him immediately if there was any change or if she needed him. Shortly after midnight, convulsions of pain wracked Jack's body and she held him trying to prevent the stitches from tearing and causing him torment as he cried out despondently for her. Sam offered words of comfort and promises of relief that sounded hollow within her ears as she spoke them. The only release that seemed likely was death.

Suddenly, Jack sat upright and grabbed her, "Est-ce que je suis mort? Est-il ce ciel?"

She struggled to find words as he pulled her tightly to him and continued to speak in a torrent of French, "Samantha, mon ange. La mort s'approche rapidement. Dieu m'accordent la pitié de la mort. Je ne peux supporter plus de torture."

"Jack, you can't die. Please you're too ill, lie back," Samantha pleaded.

"Mes battements de coeur mais pour vous. Vous êtes le sang dans des mes veines. La meilleure chose que je jamais est amour vous!" Jack declared insistantly, kissing her hands.

Samantha reached out and caressed his fevered cheek, no man had ever spoken more beautiful words of love to her before. But he was in no shape to be thrashing about so much, so she told him, "Dearest please close your eyes and rest."

He regarded her with slight confusion, in his fevered state, English had abandoned him and all Jack understood was that his Samantha was distressed with him. With a forlorn expression he whispered, "Quoique vous ne m'aimiez pas, je vous aimerai jusqu'à la fin du temps."

Samantha hastened to correct him, "Non Jack, vous avez tort. Je t'aime."

"Ne mentez pas à moi juste parce que je meurs. Je sais que vous ne pouvez pas vous tenir mon adorant," Jack let her hands go and fell back against the pillows.

Frustrated, she told him in her clipped English accent, "I am not lying to you! As to dying, you're the Jack of all Trades, you can't die."

A weak smile crossed his lips understanding his name and Jack answered, "Je braverais les feux de l'enfer juste pour sentir vos lèvres l'une fois passée."

"I meant it what I said, Jack," Samantha told him and pressed her lips to his.

For a moment he looked pleased then murmured, "Je ne vous forcerai pas à m'épouser. Nous trouverons une autre manière. Je promets."

Slowly Jack collapsed back into a restless sleep and didn't hear as Samantha whispered, "You wouldn't have had to force me to marry you Jack. I wanted you the moment I saw you. What little bit of my heart wasn't already yours on the verandah of the museum, you've captured and made yours since."

As he slept, she continued coaxing bits of ice into him. About an hour later his shivering returned with a vengeance and his skin seemed even more feverish. Samantha changed his shoulder bandage and was relieved to see that wound wasn't much worse, but her relief faded at she drew back the bandage on his leg. The flesh around the wound was still red but had become raised around it, cellulitis had set in and begun to infect deep within. Hope began to fade from Samantha, even the most untrained eye could see how serious his condition was. Reaching into the bowl for more ice, her fingers came up empty in the cool water.

Picking up the bowl, Sam looked at Jack and sighed sadly before walking to the door. She would find a servant to fetch more ice. The ice was helping at least slightly with the dehydration and seemed to calm Jack a tiny bit. At this point Samantha would do anything to make him even a little more comfortable. Opening the door, she stepped out into the corridor where a couple footman stood talking.

"I swear the cook is trying to poison us all," the older informed the younger.

"You're right, did you see that disgusting bread with the mold all over it that she tried to foist off on it. Something needs to be done," the younger man agreed.

Samantha shook her head at the petty conversation about food. Not that moldy bread sounded appetizing. Moldy bread! Suddenly an idea seized her.

"You!" Samantha exclaimed handing the bowl to the older of the two. "Fill this with ice and bring it immediately. And you, fetch all the moldy bread in the kitchen and a sharp knife and bring them to the Master's suite."

They looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, but rushed to comply. A small look of hope crossed Samantha's face as she walked back into the bedroom...

**Translations**

_Maux. Maux tellement.-_ Hurts. Hurts so much.

_Est-ce que je suis mort? Est-il ce ciel?_ - Am I dead? Is this heaven?

_Samantha, mon ange. La mort s'approche rapidement. Dieu m'accordent la pitié de la mort. Je ne peux supporter plus de torture_.-

Samantha, my angel. Death approaches rapidly. God grant me the mercy of death. I can endure no more torture.

_Mes battements de coeur mais pour vous. Vous êtes le sang dans des mes veines. La meilleure chose que je jamais est amour vous!-_

My heart beats but for you. You are the blood in my veins. The best things I ever did is love you.

_Quoique vous ne m'aimiez pas, je vous aimerai jusqu'à la fin du temps.-_

Even though you don't love me, I'll love you until the end of time.

_Non Jack, vous avez tort. Je t'aime._ - No Jack, you are wrong. I love you.

_Ne mentez pas à moi juste parce que je meurs. Je sais que vous ne pouvez pas vous tenir mon adorant.-_

Don't lie to me just because I'm dying. I know you can't stand my worshipping you.

_Je braverais les feux de l'enfer juste pour sentir vos lèvres l'une fois passée.-_

I would brave the fires of hell just to feel your lips one last time.

_Je ne vous forcerai pas à m'épouser. Nous trouverons une autre manière. Je promets.-_

I won't force you to marry me. We'll find another way. I promise.


	12. 12

Author's Notes: Penicillin was originally created from bread mold so the rudimentary version used here is valid. There are a couple of French phrases and there translations at the end of the chapter. Hope to have next chapter up later tonight. Reviews are appreciated and make me write faster.

Chapter 12

Phillippe walked into the Master's suite. One of the servants had woken him saying the Mademoiselle had lost her mind and as he entered the room, he thought they may be correct. Sitting on the Viscomte's bed, she had drawn the covers back and removed his bandages. She appeared to be vigorously scraping mold from bread onto a plate and then putting the downy gray green film on the wounds.

"Mon dieu! Mademoiselle what are you doing? You are going to kill him!"

"I know it must seem crazy, but you have to believe me when I tell you this might help save his leg and keep him alive."

"Grief can do strange things to people Mademoiselle. Perhaps if you let me get your maid or your father," Phillippe move forward to try and remove the gray substance.

Instantly, the blade in Samantha's hand was raised warningly. "You will do no such thing. I appreciate all you've done for Jack; but so help me God, touch the fungus and you're a dead man."

He stared in shock at the blatant and unladylike threat the Master's fiancé presented. "Could we not at least wait for the physician before resorting to such vile methods? I fear you will make the infection worse."

Calmly continuing to scrape mold onto the plate, she replied, "I realize this must look insane to you. But I guarantee if Jack lives and finds out you didn't let me have my way, even one legged he'll make you sorry you ever drew breath. If you'll calm down and perhaps make yourself of some use by starting scraping I'll try to explain."

Reluctantly Phillippe sat on the chair near the bed and began to scrape the downy fuzz from the bread, "This should be interesting."

Gently, Samantha scolded, "Use a lighter touch, we don't want any bread crumbs, only the mold."

"Very well."

"There is a medicine in the colonies that Jack has invested in developing called penicillin," Samantha lied. She could scarcely tell him about the future and how in the early 1900's moldy bread would revolutionize medicine. Instead Sam spun a tale of how Jack had invested money in a clever American inventor. Phillippe listened in rapt attention about this wondrous invention that his Master had an interest in.

"So if it's merely smearing mold on one's self, what would the Master need to invest in it for?"

"There's a special technique for refining it into a medicine. This is the crude form and only a last resort. Once I get this applied on the outside, I need to coax him into eating some to get it on the inside."

"Perhaps in a little brandy?" the valet suggested.

"Alcohol might diminish it's effectiveness. If he were conscious and we had cheetos, we'd be all set."

"Che-"

"Something from the colonies. Just forget it," Samantha dismissed the issue. Jack really wasn't well enough to eat even if they could arrange for an entire warehouse of cheetos. She just have to try and force a little moldy water into him.

Once the wounds were caked with the mold, Phillippe inquired, "Is there anything else I can do Mademoiselle?"

"Actually two things which will seem every bit as strange as the bread. The first is when the physician arrives from Paris, I want you to personally oversee that all the transfusion equipment is boiled in water for at least five minutes. Just trust me on that one."

"Oui Mademoiselle," Phillippe agreed. The English woman didn't seem to be willing to listen to any ideas but her own.

"The other thing is I want the room to be filled with roses. Jack like roses and the scent might help. Strip every rose out of the countryside if need be, but I want the scent to be overpowering in here."

After the confused valet nodded and left, Sam set about feeding the mold to Jack. Pushing a bit on an ice chip she placed it on his tongue and his handsome face contracted in displeasure. He remained unconscious, but growled in his sleep as Samantha fed him more and gave her a painful nip on her fingertip as she pulled her finger back. Gingerly she worked another bit into his mouth, quickly jerking her hand back. At this rate they would die of old age before she had enough inside him to keep him alive. Samantha stood up and took a deep breath trying to maintain patience, it wasn't Jack's fault and she had a feeling it didn't taste any too good.

Several footmen entered bearing enormous vases of roses and placed them around the room and beside the bed. When the left, Samantha plucked fragrant blossom from a vase and sat down to try and resume feeding Jack the crude penicillin. Maybe a little aromatherapy would help, she thought and placed the rose on the pillow so Jack would hopefully smell the scent and be comforted and maybe cooperate. Samantha stared a moment later. So as not to disturb the mold she'd placed on his thigh, she'd had to leave him uncovered. Scarcely an instant after placing the rose beside him, his cock rose to full attention and he began to moan her name.

Samantha groaned, "You know Pavlov's pup, you can't afford to waste the blood flow on that sort of thing right now."

Jack remained delirious and erect, as his hand reached up and cupped her breast and he moaned, "Donnez-moi votre langue. Je veux sentir votre bouche sur le mien."

"Why me?" she asked in bemused exasperation as he continued to caress her. Christ even now his touch was arousing, Samantha decided. When he repeated his request for her mouth on his, an idea occurred to her. Picking up the plate of mold, she informed Jack, "You're going to owe me for this one, Jack."

Scooping a piece of the gray fluff into her mouth, Sam made a face. She leaned forward and kissed Jack, pushing the medicine into his mouth. Although he looked slightly confused by the taste, he returned her kiss with enthusiasm.

"Samantha," his moan heavily accented as she pulled her mouth from his.

She repeated the action several more times. Each time he seemed to notice the odd taste but drew her tongue into his mouth with relish. Although his mouth was soft and enticing, Samantha was glad when they were nearly finished. The mold was awful! She took a sip of water to push the taste away. Still caught in the throes of the fever, Jack raised his head from the pillow and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips traced down her throat as she tried to gently push him back onto the pillow.

"Laissez-moi vous faire l'orgasme," Jack demanded trancing the swell of her breasts with his tongue.

Samantha's eyes went wide with horror, as she heard Phillippe's amused voice behind her, "Well at least he's very much alive. I thought you might like to know the doctor has arrived and the transfusion equipment is cooling from being boiled."

Turning a brilliant shade of red, she thanked him and pulled back from Jack who collapsed back on his pillow declaring, "Fichus rêves! Un jour je vous ferai l'amour, mon Samantha."

The valet left to bring the physician from downstairs and Sam snatched the rose from beside Jack's pillow. He whimpered slightly from the loss of the comforting scent for a moment then settled quietly. To Samantha's relief, his manhood returned to a calmer state by the time the physician arrived...

Translations

_Donnez-moi votre langue. Je veux sentir votre bouche sur le mien.-_

Give me your tongue. I want to feel your mouth on mine.

_Laissez-moi vous faire l'orgasme-_ Let me make you cum.

_Fichus rêves! Un jour je vous ferai l'amour, mon Samantha. -_

Damn dreams! One day I will make love to you my Samantha.


	13. 13

Author's Note: Reviews inspire authors and give readers good karma.

Chapter 13

"Now Mademoiselle, what's this I hear about you refusing to allow me to use sheep's blood for the transfusion?" Dr. Vincent demanded. "I'll have you know Mademoiselle more patients survive with a sheep's blood transfusion than any other kind. I'll have you know I have success rate of nearly one in seventy-five patients."

"Dr Vincent, I'm sure you mean well, but you won't change my mind," Samantha informed him as the footmen entered with the sterilized transfusion equipment.

"And what if I simply refuse my services and return to Paris?" he challenged as the footman left.

Samantha picked up the knife she'd used on the bread and turned it over thoughtfully in her hands. "Then by all means leave, but you will leave your transfusion equipment behind."

Under his breath the physician muttered about the insanity of the English, turning to the valet he demanded, "Isn't there a male responsible for her? Surely this is too important a decision for a woman to make."

"I believe the Mademoiselle means business. The Master dotes on her a great deal so if he should survive and discover you refused to honor his fiancé's wishes, he will be furious," Phillippe explained, deciding to support Samantha's insane endeavor. The Master could go into terrible rages on occasion and if he did survive, Phillippe wished to stay on his good side. He'd seen the footman that had been used for sword practice. "I do believe Monsieur Doctor that you would not wish to incur the enmity of man as powerful as the Viscomte."

"Very well, but you do understand this won't be pleasant Mademoiselle. This would be easiest if you were to lie down beside the Viscomte."

Samantha walked to the far side of the bed and got in beside Jack. Dr. Vincent's eyes shot up in disapproval as he surveyed the nude form of his patient. What a tale he would have to tell back in Paris about the Viscomte and his insane Anglais! Watching the play of expression on the man's face, Samantha bit back a scathing tirade that threatened to spill out. Let the man say what he wanted to, all that mattered was keeping Jack alive and her blood was the means of doing so.

The physician moved the equipment about and Sam eyed the archaic equipment nervously. Primitive tubing was attached to a glass bottle and placed carefully between them. Taking Jack's arm, Dr. Vincent began to flick the pale flesh trying to select which blue vein would receive the wicked looking needle that was attached to the tube. At last he selected and pressed the needle in. Sam thought the doctor took vicious pleasure as he stabbed the needle in her arm hard before unclamping the tubing to create a vacuum to siphon blood from Samantha into Jack.

Jack became agitated and fretful, Samantha had to reach over with her other hand to try to soothe him and get him to lie still before the needle flew out of him arm. Whether he was doing better and had the energy or was doing worse, Jack began to cry mournfully a litany over and over, of her name. The call of her name seemed to amuse the doctor which made Sam angry. How dare he take amusement in Jack's weakened state! Jack was delirious with fever and blood loss, hell right now she felt like crying too.

"Maman!" Jack cried out and began sobbing pitifully.

Dr. Vincent snickered loudly turning Samantha's anger to full fledged fury. She had to fight to restrain herself from vaulting over Jack and tearing the man's eye's out. Longingly she eyed the knife, but settled for requesting a rose from Phillippe and discreetly pulling a sheet over Jack in case he reacted the way he had previously.

"Phillippe, I know when and how to remove the tubes myself. Please be so good as to show the doctor to a room, I'm certain he would like to accept our hospitality for tonight before returning to Paris."

As soon as they were alone, Samantha gently held the blossom near Jack's face, grateful when it seemed to calm him slightly, he continued whimpering but the crying subsided. Looking down at the sheet, she was relieved he didn't react as he had previously. Watching his face, Sam was glad to see some color returning to his cheeks. She knew in a few more minutes she would have to stop the transfer of blood, but she wanted to give Jack every drop possible. At the moment, Samantha would give every drop she had if only Jack would wake up and smile at her.

Gingerly, Samantha took the edge of the sheet and wrapped it around her finger. As gently as possible she pushed a little of the mold from the wound on his shoulder and was pleased to see the redness and swelling had diminished dramatically. Moving her hand downwards, she inspected Jack's thigh and was gratified to see some improvement, though Jack was still a long way from fine. Samantha was becoming light-headed and knew it was time to stop the transfusion. Pressing a kiss to Jack's lips, she waited one more moment before finally stopping the transfer of blood.

Samantha efficiently removed the needles from their arms and moved the equipment away from the bed. Feeling slightly dizzy from blood loss, she climbed back into bed with Jack and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. His whimpering had ceased and he appeared to be sleeping. She touched her hand to his forehead and thought his felt was slightly less hot to the touch. Provided that Jack's leg continued to heal, the greatest remaining danger was that brain damage could have occurred during the very high fever that had resulted from the infection.

After all the years of their game and admiring his brilliance, Sam couldn't bear the thought of his brilliant mind being destroyed. Anxiously she watched Jack, longing for him to wake up and to see his eyes brimming with intelligence and shining with love. Samantha ached to hear sibilant tone of his voice and to see his mischievous smile. She would give anything to be able to have him hold her and feel his kiss again, not one of fever induced desperation; but one of his sweet kisses that set her very soul on fire.

"Oh Jack," Samantha sighed. "Please wake up."

As he lay sleeping, she continued to speak to him, "Just please be all right. Please Jack, I'm so lost without you."

Samantha pressed a kiss to his mouth and gently pushed his honey locks from his face, searching for any sign of him waking. Tears fell from Samantha's eyes from the strain and worry. She pleaded with him, "We can do anything you want. Get married. Make love. Kill the entire VCTF. Anything, only please, Jack, just wake up."

Upset by the lack of response, she teasingly threatened, "Jack if you don't wake up I swear I'll find a way back to Atlanta and sleep with Bailey and John at the same time! Hell throw in George; I'll make it a gang bang! You see, you have to wake up and threaten me and remind me that I belong to you."

Samantha watched him for any sort of reaction and was disappointed when Jack continued to remain still. Apprehension started turning to fear as minutes ticked by, she'd been so certain that the transfusion would help. Forlornly, she picked up the rose that rested on the pillow beside Jack and smelled it. The scent was nice, but not as nice as Jack's roses. Despondently looking at the flower, she wondered if she would ever receive another rose from Jack.

"Will I ever see another of your roses?" Samantha asked him. Taking his hand to her mouth, she kissed his palm. "Please come back to me. I love your roses. I love our game. But most of all, I love you Jack. I need you."

Jack's hand suddenly cupped her chin and his eyes shot open, "Do you my Samantha?"

"Jack!" she exclaimed joyfully. Without hesitation she answered, "I've always needed you, I just didn't know it before."

"And am I all you need?" he inquired. When she nodded, he teased, "Does that mean you're canceling the gang bang?"

Her mouth opened wide in outrage that he'd apparently listened to her for some time. Before Samantha could respond, Jack pulled her down on top of him and kissed her. The scathing retort that had been forming on her lips was lost in their kiss. When their lips parted, she reassured him of her feelings, "I want to be with you. I've fought myself and your love for a long time. I'm done fighting and denying myself the only person who matters to me. I love you, Jack."

"My Samantha," Jack breathed contentedly and pulled her mouth to his...


	14. 14

Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated. Check my homepage for a special NC-17 story and also look for it to change in the next week from a livejournal page to a full website with all my stories plus other great Skewed stories and fanart of Jack/Samantha!

Chapter 14

Samantha moaned softly against Jack's mouth as his tongue massaged hers. His hand was wandering playfully along her plunging neckline and his fingers gently dipped into her bodice. Their explorations were cut off by the sound of Phillippe clearing his throat in the doorway anxiously. Blushing furiously, Samantha tugged at the bodice of her gown that Jack had pulled downwards. Jack pulled the sheet over his arousal, more for her modesty than his own or the servant's.

"I thought the Mademoiselle might wish to inform her father of your state of health before he comes into investigate for himself," Phillippe interrupted. Then continued, "I just met your father in the hallway Mademoiselle and told him you were downstairs looking for him."

Realizing the awkward scene Phillippe's intrusion had mercifully spared them, Jack thanked him and told Samantha, "After you tell your father that I continue to exist and the wedding will proceed, come back to me."

Still bright red, she responded, "I'll be back before you know it."

Pressing a kiss to his lips, Samantha got out of bed and moved past Phillippe to search out her father. Jack propped himself up slightly, allowing his valet to fuss with the pillows. Having grown up in a wealthy household, Jack was quite used to the constant intrusion of servants and was undisturbed by the valet's attentions. After vainly demanding a cigarette, Jack commanded the valet bring him his jacket he wore to the duel. When the coat was in hand and Jack's had brushed the cigar case he smiled.

"Another invention from the Colonies, Sir?" Phillippe inquired as Jack withdrew one of the crude cigarettes he'd rolled. To the valet it appeared to be a short thin cigar and looked awfully strange. Ever since their engagement, the Master and the Mademoiselle had been acting very strangely.

"The Colonies? Ah oui, certainment, Phillippe," Jack agreed readily. A quizzical expression crossed his handsome features as he asked, "What do you mean **another** invention from the Colonies?"

"Only that Mademoiselle explained to me about the strange medicine you have invested in developing involving moldy bread. She insisted on smearing on your wounds and feeding it to you."

His arousal diminished, Jack moved the sheet and lifted the bandage from his thigh. The neatly stitched wound still looked terrible, but without Samantha's inventiveness he would likely be facing amputation. As he held the cigarette into the candle flame, the valet flourished before him, Jack gave a silent prayer of gratitude for his Samantha. Drawing in the smoke, a smile crossed Jack's face as the warm burning sensation of smoke filled his lungs. Samantha loved him and was willing to marry him.

"If you don't mind my saying so Sir, Mademoiselle is remarkable. She never left your side since you returned. Although I still question the wisdom of her giving you her blood instead of sheep's."

Rich tones of Jack's laughter filled the room as Samantha returned from speaking to her father or at least the man who was in this time. Hearing Jack's laughter, she smiled and pushed away, the unpleasant tirade on propriety she'd been subjected to. The man simply didn't understand that she had needed to be by her fiancé's side. Her fiancé, Sam thought looking at Jack's smiling face. Strange only a week ago the notion of marrying him would have been horrifying and now the idea seemed perfect and natural.

But then much had changed, Samantha had changed, not merely their location and time in history. Every kiss and caress Jack had given her on the balcony of the museum in Atlanta had guided her to this point. Shyly Samantha blushed as she went past Phillippe and climbed into Jack's embrace. He took her left hand and kissed her finger near her enormous engagement ring. The valet excused himself for a few moments to give the lover's privacy. Gently, Jack pulled Samantha's mouth to his and kissed her.

In his soft French accent he informed her looking at her ring, "Perhaps we need to find something more romantic and comfortable for your hand when we are in private, non?"

"I'd like that Jack. It would please me to wear a ring you chose rather than some gaudy piece from whomever's estate this is. Speaking of which, do you have any idea where this is or whom this place belongs too?"

"I vaguely recognize the place, it belonged to my ancestor's and I was shown ruins of this place on vacation as a child. There was little left beyond the roses though, the revolution will destroy this place in a few decades."

"That's too bad. I rather like this house. It's grand, but has a coziness, well other than the ballroom."

"True, though it would be a fantastic place for my compu-" Jack trailed off and a frown marred his face. Taking her chin, he demanded, "What happens if we return to our time Samantha? Will you cast me aside and forget me?"

"Jack, I love you," she assured him. "Being here made me stop and examine my life, but to be honest I think it might have taken longer had things not happened the way they had, but the conclusion would have been the same."

"Perhaps," Jack replied non-commitally and cut her protests off with a kiss. After kissing her very thoroughly, Jack told Samantha, "I think you should go to your room and get some rest. Phillippe told me of your vigil and I would hate for you to make yourself ill."

"Why can't I stay with you?" Samantha pressed her lips to Jack's as she asked him.

His smile returning, :"That is exactly why my dear, sleep is not likely to occur if you and I occupy the same bed tonight."

Reluctantly Samantha agreed and left Jack. She went to her room and allowed her maid to undress her and put her in a long white flannel gown. After the maid left, Samantha tried to lay down, but sleep eluded her as she though about Jack. While she couldn't blame Jack for being concerned that she would abandon him if they returned to their own time, her heart ached for him and she wanted to comfort him. Getting out of bed she decided to slip down the hall to Jack's room and see him for at least a few minutes.

Walking down the hallway, Samantha bumped into a pile of trays and bowls that had held ice in Jack's room. Phillippe had piled them in the hall for the footman to take away. Samantha gave a silent prayer of thanks for Jack's recovery, she'd been terrified he wouldn't make it and was relieved that he pulled through. Her hand was just about to turn the knob when an insolent voice called out behind her.

"Going to your pathetic excuse of a man, Mademoiselle?" Dr. Vincent sneered across the hall standing in a dressing gown in a guestroom doorway. "But perhaps you Anglais like a man that bawls like a baby?"

Fury coursed through Samantha's body. How dare this man insult her Jack? Jack had cried in his delirium at the height of his pain and she doubted this man would have borne it even a quarter as well. Ignoring his remark, she was going to go into Jack and put this dreadful man behind her. Dr. Vincent continued to insult Jack and suggested that she needed a real man. That did it! Samantha couldn't bear another moment. Unsure of what to say she spun around.

"How about letting a real man show you pleasure?" the pompous man leered and fondled himself at her.

A glittering expression lit Samantha's eyes and a tight smile crossed her mouth as she responded, "Very well, show me, but first go in your room and start undressing, I'll be but a moment."

As Dr. Vincent walked into his room and stood near the bed, Samantha took a step when something sharp pressed against her ankle. Turning to see the twin knives she and Phillippe had used to shave the mold off the bread, Samantha bent down and picked them up in her left hand. Concealing them in the folds of her nightdress, she walked over the threshold and closed the door behind her...


	15. 15

Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated and make me type faster. Zackery, thank you for your kind review, I'm always thrilled when someone takes an interest in my work. Silverwolf, I promise to update before you leave on vacation and will try to not end on a cliffhanger.

Chapter 15

Beside the bed the man was pulling his dressing gown off, exposing doughy arms and a bloated midsection. Mercifully a pair of underdrawers covered his lower half. His back was turned to the door as Samantha closed the door behind her. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, she was acting purely on instinct and anger. Hatred narrowed her vision as she took in the despicable excuse of a doctor. Her right hand grabbed a heavy metal candelabra as her left hand continued to hold the knives. Just as Dr. Vincent turned around, Samantha brought the candelabra upwards striking his temple and causing him to fall unconscious on the bed. As she uprighted the candleholder and sat it down, Sam barely registered the hot wax that had cascaded down her hand and forearm and sat the knives down briefly.

Using the bedding, Samantha maneuvered the Parisian Doctor into place on the bed. Then she pulled hard on one of the bed's curtains and started ripping it into strips. Starting with the odious man's wrists, Samantha bound them to the bed and followed suit with his ankles. Just as she stuffed a final strip of fabric in the man's mouth, he came too and started struggling. Amused by his struggles, Samantha moved away and started to pick up the knives. Momentarily the lace of her nightgown caught her attention in the candlelight and Samantha paused to remove it, the gown was too pretty to ruin with this revolting man's blood. Nude, Samantha picked up the knives and approached the bed. The man's eyes were wide with terror as she approached, but the sight of her naked body made him harden.

"And you call yourself a real man," Samantha laughed at the man's small erection pressing against his underdrawers. Taking the larger knife in her right hand she poised it over his crotch, then flicked the blade against his inner thigh similar to Jack's injury from the duel. As the man's eyes watered with pain, Samantha sneered cruelly, "What's the matter, feel like crying?"

Against the gag the man groaned and plead to no avail. The words couldn't pass through the fabric as anything other than animalistic sounds and Samantha had passed the point of compassion. This man had mocked Jack at his weakest and could not be allowed to live after his transgression. Slowly, Samantha moved the blade over the man's shoulder slicing the corpulent flesh. For a moment Samantha watched the blood welling up in the wound fascinated by the injury. After years of crime scenes, she'd never before considered what it would be like to inflict wounds and to damage human flesh. There was something arresting about the sight of damaged tissue and knowing she'd created that damage.

"Look at you," Samantha's voice dripped with contempt and venom as she address the Doctor. "Sniveling like a child already and you're not even hurt a fraction as badly as my Jack was."

"Mmhhhmmm," Dr Vincent wailed into to the gag. The Anglais was clearly insane and realization he wouldn't live through the night dawned on him.

"Begging are we? A physician who is supposed to help people sneers at a dying man's outcry for his mother. Go on, cry for me Dr. Vincent. I want to see you cry!"

Samantha began to move the knives in tandem making shallow cuts on the man's pasty flesh, beaming at the garnet droplets that began to sparkle across his arms and chest. With each cut, Sam became more enraptured with her work. The look of terror in the Doctor's eyes reassured her she was doing a good job. Part of her wished Jack was with her to watch and guide her. As her thoughts turned to her fiancé, anger at the bleeding man grew tenfold. No one mocked her Jack, Samantha decided.

"I've wanted to do this since the moment you laughed at Jack's suffering," Sam growled and slowly sliced one knife across the man's face.

Dr. Vincent strained against his restraints, even if the gag weren't in place the sounds emanating from him would have been little more than incoherent bawling. All dignity fled as he saw his death in Samantha's blue eyes.

"Perhaps your problem is that you lack perspective. Maybe I need to adjust the way you see things," she suggested before taking one of the knives and stabbing the eyes that had ogled her and held mockery for Jack. At that, the physician fainted, and Sam cursed, "Damn it! Just when I was starting to enjoy myself."

Across the hall, Phillippe helped Jack into a black velvet dressing gown after redressing his wounds. Though exhausted from his injuries and fighting the infection, Jack was anxious to hear more of the valet's account of Samantha's saving his life. Jack smiled as Phillippe recounted the tale of blood transfusion. The knowledge the blood of his Samantha now flowed in his veins made Jack feel humbled and pleased. Jack's smile marred slightly as the valet related Dr. Vincent's mockery and how much it upset Samantha. Clearly the man needed to be eliminated.

Jack hadn't tolerated anyone distressing Samantha in modern times and he certainly wouldn't tolerate it now either. Briefly Jack considered what would happen if they returned to Atlanta and if it were even possible. Would Samantha be capable of loving him under the scrutiny of her friends? Since the beginning Jack suspected she had terrific potential for violence and had hoped to foster that quality in her one day. Could she ever be persuaded to embrace that part of herself? Laying back on the bed as Phillippe fussed over him, Jack considered his next move in the game. The integrity of the game he decided, had to be maintained at all costs.

Intently she watched the unconscious man and at the first sign he was coming to, Samantha began to cut into his torso. Slowly at first, then the knives flashed in her hands as she began to speed up her movements. Years of anger and violence that had dwelled in the darkest recesses of her soul bubbled to the surface and she became frenzied. Faster and faster the knives flashed. As she drove the blades in deeper and hit major arteries blood began to flow and several gushes of arterial spray bathed her body as she stabbed. Although Samantha was unaware of it, she began to scream as she stabbed the doctor.

At the sound of Samantha's screams, Jack despite his injuries leapt out of the bed and grabbed his sword. Phillippe followed behind him as Jack raced across the room and into the hallway. Pausing for a moment, Jack listened to determine where Samantha was then rushed across the hall. Forcing the door open, Jack entered sword drawn, with Phillippe at his heels. Both men stared as Samantha turned around and faced them.

As Jack's eyes met Samantha's he could read the fright and exhilaration that was warring within her. Right now, she needed to be handled very carefully, Jack decided. Without turning he spoke softly to Phillippe, "Whatever your salary is, it is now doubled. Go out into the hall and see no one enters this room. In a few moments, I will bring Samantha to my room, see that we are not disturbed."

"Jack? What have I done?" Samantha asked in a confused tone, the knives clattering to the floor.

Phillippe exited the room and shut the door behind him, amazed by his master's next words...


	16. 16

Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated and encourage me to type faster. The painting will be turning up several chapters later in the story and the website will have a rendering of the painting.

Chapter 16

As Phillippe exited the room, Jack dropped his sword to the floor and walked slowly towards Samantha. Smiling lovingly, Jack murmured sensually, "Samantha. Look at you."

"Jack?" she wavered uncertainly. "What have I done?"

"What have you done? Samantha, you have become more beautiful than I ever dreamed possible," Jack purred. Caressing her blood stained cheek, Jack pressed his lips to hers and kissed her tenderly. "Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine you so radiant."

"But, Jack I k-killed him. I murdered that man."

"No!" Jack cut her off sharply. Nuzzling her face, he kissed her and allowed streaks of crimson to mar his handsome face. Gently he turned her around to face the bed and whispered, "This isn't murder. You created my goddess, you created something amazing. I have longed for this moment for almost as long as I've longed to hear you speak of love."

Samantha stared at the bloodied corpse and leaned back against Jack. His words made it sound so easy. When she picked up the knives and killed the doctor, all she could think of was how angry she was that he'd mocked Jack. Now that the man was dead, she tried to reconcile her emotions. She didn't feel guilty exactly, just strange and like the whole thing had just been a surreal dream. No, Samantha wasn't sorry the man was dead, she decided.

"I'm not sure how I feel. Part of me-" Samantha trailed off. "I feel like I should feel guilty. It's odd, I feel guilty that I don't feel guilty."

Jack laughed and slid his dressing gown off his shoulders and held it up for Samantha to slip into. Mechanically she allowed him to help her into the black velvet. Looking up at Jack's face she saw the smears of blood and reached up to touch them. Capturing her hand in his, Jack pressed a kiss into her palm and drew her into his embrace. Samantha quivered in his arms from the adrenaline rush of killing and the torrent of emotions that were swirling within her. Brushing his lips against her, Jack kissed Samantha, gently at first, then deeply.

"Had you not taken care of the doctor, then I would have. You have nothing to feel guilty about my Samantha. Tonight my Queen pushed aside the Profiler and became glorious. He was your inferior and had no value. Stop denying yourself the pleasure that you are feeling at this moment. I can feel your body nearly singing with ecstasy. Stop fighting yourself and give in to the sensation," Jack coaxed sibilantly.

Still torn, Samantha opened her mouth to Jack's as his face pressed against hers. As their lips met, their tongues caressed and Samantha melted against Jack. Excitement and desire began to course through her as she surrendered to Jack's kiss and seductive words. Softly she moaned as his hand caressed her breast through the velvet and his lips trailed down her throat. Euphoria from killing transformed into lust under Jack's skillful hands as he traced her curves and channeled the torrent of emotion that had bubbled within Samantha.

Doubts were melting as Jack continued to arouse her. Samantha found the faint stirrings of guilt she'd experienced in light of her lack of remorse were diminishing rapidly in Jack's arms. Knowing that he had killed so many times for her and that tonight she had killed for him, excited her. Making such a bold move in their mental dance was a profound step in their game. Earlier Jack had worried that she would abandon him if they returned to their time, surely this would reassure him, Samantha thought.

"We are the same now, aren't we?"

Nodding, Jack agreed, "We always have been, you just needed to realize it."

"Nothing will ever come between us, even if we go back," Samantha told him. When he didn't answer she pressed against him and kissed him. Desperately, she insisted, "Nothing will ever come between us. Nothing do you hear me? Nothing!"

Jack hadn't doubt her sincerity, he simply hadn't wanted to press her too hard. Caressing her face with his hand he promised, "Nothing will ever come between us. I love you my Samantha."

"Forgive me," she blushed slightly, embarrassed by her outburst.

"There's nothing to forgive, this is all very new for both of us. Let's go back to my room," Jack suggested tenderly.

"I thought you wanted me to sleep in my room."

Moving his hands sensually over her body as they approached the door, he said, "Sleep is the last thing on your mind my darling and tonight it shall be my turn to watch over you."

"But Jack your injuries, you really can't," Samantha protested.

"Our union shall not be consummated this night. Right now I wish only to hold you and bring you pleasure," Jack informed her as he opened the door. "Perhaps we shall clean you up a bit as well, non?"

As the pair moved past Phillippe, he stared at the couple in amazement. Earlier he'd known that the Mademoiselle was angry with the Paris physician; but he never imagined she was capable of murder. When they walked in and found her standing over the body, his heart turned in agony for the pair of lovers, imagining that the Master would condemn her for her actions and that she would die. Instead, the Viscomte was delighted and the couple seemed as close as ever. There was definitely something strange about the Master and Mademoiselle since their engagement, but with his salary doubled, Phillippe wasn't going to question their actions.

Jack lead Samantha into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. Removing the dressing gown from her body, he lead her into the bathing room that was adjoined to the suite. Turning gold taps that were encrusted with jewels, Jack drew a bath for her and gently urged her into the sunken tub. Sitting on the side of the marble tub, as best he could with his injuries, Jack traced a large sea sponge over Samantha's body and wiped the blood away. She watched aroused and enraptured, her lips slightly parted as he washed the last remnants of her frenzied killing. When he had finished bathing her, Samantha took the sponge and tenderly cleaned Jack's face where it had been smeared in a bloody kiss.

"Samantha," Jack shivered with pleasure at her soft ministrations.

Their lips met briefly in affection, before Jack rose cautiously from the edge of the tub and held a thick towel up for Samantha. As his hands moved over her body to dry her off, she whimpered as his touch. Moving back into the bedroom, Samantha let Jack slowly climb onto the bed, his injuries still needing to be considered in their actions. Carefully she climbed in beside him on his uninjured side and turned her face to receive his kiss. Her fingers tangled through his hair and brushed his ear.

"Your earrings are gone," Samantha said, referring to the small twin hoops that had adorned his left ear back in Atlanta.

"Apparently, my scar from you shooting me isn't the only thing that changed. You seem unchanged though," Jack remarked.

Blushing Samantha confessed, "I was shaved back in Atlanta."

"Were you now," Jack took her tongue into his mouth and gently probed the silky curls between her thighs. Her sex was wet against his fingers and gently he pushed a finger inside her. To his surprise his finger met resistance and she made a small pained sound of protest. Instantly, he withdrew his finger and concentrated on caressing her swollen clit. In the back of his mind Jack knew shaving wasn't all that had changed about Samantha, but he decided to hold off on telling her.

Moving his mouth down her throat, Jack spoke sibilantly. "The moment before orgasm, teetering on the precipice between agony and ecstasy is one of the sweetest moments in the human existence."

Panting from his attentions, Samantha breathed, "Is it?"

"The other is the moment when you become omnipotent and create death as you did tonight. Tonight you shall feel both my Samantha," Jack purred continuing to coax her to pleasure.

A moment later she climaxed, cumming hard against his fingers. Released on many levels from tensions of many years as she cried out his name. Jack pressed a kiss reverently to Samantha's mouth when her breathing began to slow. For a long time he continued to hold and caress her until she fell asleep in his arms. Briefly, Jack allowed himself to enjoy her closeness before slowly rising from the bed and pulling on the black velvet robe. Quietly he left the room to deal with body...


	17. 17

Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated and are inspiring. Be sure to click my homepage on Saturday when I am changing it from my LiveJournal to my brand new website with fanart and lots of Skewed Stories.

Chapter 17

Quietly closing the door behind him, Jack approached Phillippe in the hallway and motioned for him to follow him into the room where the body was. Although the valet had witnessed the aftermath of his beloved's rage, Jack didn't wish anymore servants to be made aware of the situation. Walking into the room, Jack stood near the bed for a moment to admire Samantha's work. His only regret was that he hadn't gotten to watch her kill the physician, he'd often fantasized about watching her kill. Still the aftermath seeing her covered in blood was an image Jack would treasure for a long time to come.

"The Mademoiselle was angry with him for mocking you while you were unconscious, but I never-" Phillippe trailed off uncertainly.

"Nor did I. Or rather, I knew the day would arrive, just not so soon."

"You are not bothered by the fact your fiancé is a murderess, that she killed this man?"

"Phillippe, if you value your position as my valet and more importantly if you value your life, you will never repeat such a phrase," Jack told him curtly.

"Sir, I didn't mean, it's just- She killed him, Sir."

"No. Samantha created. Death is a creation Phillippe and my Goddess simply was displaying her omnipotence."

The valet simply shook his head at his employer as he countered, "Well your Goddess has left quite a mess and it's possible this man will be missed. Many servants saw him arrive."

"Which is why I'm going to dispose of the body in an accident. Tell me Phillippe, on the road between here and Paris are there any places where the road is on the edge of a cliff?"

"Five miles from here, the road stretches along the top of a cliff overlooking the sea for nearly a twenty mile stretch."

Considering how to dispose of the body, Jack inquired, "Now this cliff, is it sloping down to the sea or a straight drop?"

Phillippe looked at the body on the bed and swallowed. The blood covering the corpse was drying to a rusty shade. Although he wasn't certain he wished to be party to his Master's concealment of the crime, there was no doubt in his mind of the man's devotion to the Mademoiselle. Whereas most men would have screamed for the authorities and denounced their fiancé, the Viscomte seemed rapturous over the murderous deed and almost proud of his betrothed. Just when Phillippe thought the aristocracy couldn't get any stranger, the Master seemed to take things to a new level.

Sensing his valet's discomfort, Jack spoke softly. "Phillippe, I understand this seems strange to you, but Samantha is my life and I am prepared to die or kill for her. No man is safe from my wrath or enmity when it comes to my Samantha. If you help as I know you will, you will find I am prepared to be very generous with you financially and will see that you live long enough to enjoy my largesse. Consider for a moment what the value of a life is, what Samantha's life is worth compared to your own and what your life is worth in comparison to the rude Dr. Vincent. You seem to possess a little more wit than most of the men I've encountered around here, do consider carefully before you utter one more word."

Phillippe studied his employer intently. Although the Viscomte had acted rather strangely for several days, as had the Mademoiselle, the one thing the valet was certain of was their devotion to one another. While the intensity with which the Mademoiselle had disposed of the Parisian physician was rather frightening, hadn't Phillippe himself had similar urges when the man was mocking the incoherent Viscomte? Mademoiselle Samantha had been very sweet in her devotion to the Master and tended his wounds without flinching following the duel. Was it really such a terrible thing to turn a blind eye to what happened?

Without thinking, Phillippe responded, "The cliff is nearly a straight drop. Are you and the Mademoiselle planning on making a habit of this?"

Shooting his beleaguered valet, a wicked smile Jack answered, "Probably, but I promise to wash my own blood stains out of my clothing."

"Why me?" Phillippe muttered under his breath. Aloud he asked, "How do you plan to stage this accident and what do you need me to do?"

"You dress the body and I fear you'll have to drag him down the steps while I make certain no one is approaching. Then we load him into a coach after I adjust the carriage pin and have him driven in the direction of Paris. Follow behind discretely on horseback and make certain that the coach indeed crashes about ten miles from here and falls into the sea. By the time the body is found, it will have been partially consumed by sealife and will be ruled an accident."

"And who is driving the coach?"

"Pick someone, Phillippe, from among the servants. Surely there's someone the world would be no worse off for losing."

Could he really choose a man and let him die? Phillippe considered and remembered the secondary coachman who had forced himself on one of the scullery maids a couple weeks ago. When she took her life last week, rumors abounded among the staff that she had been with child and couldn't bear the further humiliation. Squaring his shoulders, Phillippe replied, "I believe your second coachman would be an ideal candidate. Shall I have him bring your worst coach around?"

Shaking his head, Jack responded, "No. First dress the body we'll make it appear that he's heavily in his cups and you can support him as you help him into the coach. And secondly I want to use the best coach I own." Seeing his valet's puzzled expression, Jack explained, "No one would ever suspect a man would deliberately destroy his best coach."

As Phillippe began to wash Dr. Vincent's bloodied face and struggled to dress the stiffening corpse, Jack began to slowly strip the bedding off the bed. Piling it near the fireplace, he planned to slowly put it into the blazing hearth and destroy the blood stained fabric. The body was in full rigor and the valet was wrestling vainly with the man's coat. Wordlessly, Jack grabbed the dead man's arm and snapped the bone to allow the valet to dress the body. Phillippe paled slightly at the sound of bone cracking, the sound seemed to fill the quiet room. The beleaguered valet nearly fainted at the sound of further cracking when Jack wrenched Dr. Vincent's mouth open and poured brandy from a decanter down the deadman's throat.

After the body was dressed, Jack left Phillippe alone with the doctor and painfully made his way downstairs and ordered the coach and the driver Phillippe suggested. Once the coach was brought around, Jack ordered the driver to help Phillippe bring the physician downstairs that the man was drunk and needed assistance. The moment Jack was alone with the coach he moved cautiously and started fiddling with the hitch where the horses were attached. As he manipulated the metal, Jack considered the speed the horses would travel at, he wanted the crash to occur in just the right place. After several minutes, Jack was satisfied that he had calculated accurately and adjusted the underpinning accordingly.

Phillippe and the coachman appeared and bustled the doctor into the back of the coach along with his bag that Jack had packed minus a few medical items he wished to keep.

"He's dead drunk, Sir," the coachman informed him. "What should I do if he's still unconscious when we reach Paris?"

"I doubt that will happen, but if it should occur then I'm certain one of his servants will aid you in assisting the doctor into his home. Now," Jack said closing the coach door. "Drive on, Dr. Vincent's services are no longer required."

The carriage took off and Phillippe stalked off in the direction of the stables to get a mount and follow. Jack went back inside and up to the room where Samantha had killed the physician. Ripping the sheets into strips, Jack slowly fed them into the flames watching them burn slowly. His fingers paused to periodically caress the bloodstains and study them with pride. Tonight Samantha had exceeded his every expectation and Jack was pleased beyond measure. An hour later, Phillippe returned and reported the coach had separated from the horses and that coach, driver and doctor had fallen into the sea. The horses were still running and would likely be recovered in a day or so. Jack thanked Phillippe and dismissed him for the night. After his valet left, Jack went back to his room and Samantha...


	18. 18

Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated and inspire me to write faster. And to those who wrote me about Phillippe, he won't be killed.

Chapter 18

Samantha woke up in Jack's arms and sighed contentedly. A week ago, she would have never believed it possible to wake up next to Jack and be happy about it, but then she wouldn't have imagined herself capable of murder a week ago. Snuggled up against Jack's chest, she thought about killing the doctor. She expected to feel a surge of guilt, but instead felt pleased and had a sense of accomplishment. Last night she crossed the threshold into Jack's world and found she enjoyed it immensely. Back in Atlanta, the constant presence of her friends had always kept Samantha from acknowledging, let alone fulfilling her darkest desires. Here she'd not only faced her most taboo urges, she'd succumbed to them.

Jack shifted slightly and the covers slid low on his hips, affording Samantha a glimpse of his impressive morning glory. Cautiously, she slid the covers down and checked the bandage on his thigh. His wound was healing nicely and would barely leave a scar. After resecuring the bandage, Samantha allowed her hand to wander upwards. Tenuously she caressed his balls with her fingertip, then slowly wrapped her fingers around his shaft. As she moved her hand slowly up and down his length, Jack awoke with a groan.

"Mmm, Samantha." Jack smiled and inquired, "What are you doing?"

"I was checking your injuries and thought I should make sure everything is still fully functional," she teased as she continued to stroke him. When he made a move to touch her breast, she scolded him, but added when she saw his hurt expression, "Last night you made me feel wonderful. This morning I want to please you."

At that Jack closed his eyes and surrendered to Samantha's attentions. Reaching out, he tenderly traced her back as she caressed him. As she touched him, Samantha started to become aroused, for a moment she contemplated climbing on top and riding him, but something stopped her. She wasn't' sure why, but she knew right now was not the time for that. Unaware she'd begun to moan slightly as she touched Jack, Samantha failed to notice him studying her with bemusement. When he chuckled slightly, she looked at him and blushed slightly.

Gently taking her hand from his shaft, Jack suggested, "Move to the end of the bed and look up at me."

Excited, but uncertain, Sam complied and asked, "Now what?"

"Touch yourself, slowly, do it the same speed I am," Jack instructed, slowly grasping his manhood.

Samantha fought an urge to protest, she'd never touched herself in front of someone let alone in full morning sunlight. However as she watched Jack's slow and unabashed strokes, she found her arousal was becoming unbearable and she began to move her hand as he instructed. Despite her embarrassment, she found it incredibly erotic watching Jack growing harder and seeing the rapt expression on his face as his eyes moved from her face to her sex. She longed to speed up her movements, but when she did so, Jack stopped altogether, not resuming until she'd slowed back to the pace he'd set. It was maddening and sensual at the same time.

"Tell me," Jack rasped. "Tell me about last night."

"About killing the doctor?"

"Y-yes," he panted.

Samantha hesitated for a moment; but found the encouraging look on Jack's face gave her the courage to take a step further into the forbidden. Breathlessly she told him, "The bastard mocked you while you were unconscious. All I could think about was how much I hated him and how much I wanted him to suffer."

"Don't stop," Jack begged.

"I saw the knives in the hall and he boasted that he could show me what a real man was. The next thing I knew I had the knives in my hand and was in his room." Sam panted, "Jack please."

"Soon," he promised. "Continue."

"He- I-, oh God-" she trailed off struggling for rational thought. Jack was trembling slightly and she knew he was as close as she was. However, she knew he wouldn't allow either of them to cum until she'd finished the story. This was another step in their game and Jack wouldn't allow her to shortchange the new level. Finding her voice, Samantha continued, "I hit him on the head and tied him to the bed. When he came to I began to cut him."

"Cut him how?"

"Shallow at first, then I stabbed the knife in his thigh about where your injury is. I told him I wanted him to cry."

"And did he?" Jack demanded anxiously.

"Oh God, Jack. Yes, he cried. He was gagged, but he was howling into it and had tears streaming down his face. Then I began stabbing him over and over. One of the knives caught against a rib bone and I heard it crack when I pulled the blade back out."

"Now," Jack gasped and began to speed up his motions slightly. "How did you feel when you did it?"

"I-I felt so good. The- the power and knowing he would die for mocking you. And I felt. I felt so fucking close to you as I did it. Oh God, Jack! I-" she broke off almost sobbing with need.

"It's all right, just touch yourself." Jack panted, "You loved killing didn't you. It excited you didn't it? We're the same, you know that now, don't you?"

"Yes!" Samantha screamed and began to cum hard.

Just as she climaxed, Jack did too. They had barely finished their orgasms when the door slammed open and Samantha's father came storming in. Behind him was a very annoyed Phillippe. Samantha gasped and pulled a blanket over her, still panting from her climax as she covered up. A murderous looked crossed Jack's face as he sat up and jerked a pillow over his wet and still hard shaft. As Samantha's father began to splutter in outrage, Phillippe moved forward.

"I tried to stop him, Sir. But he would not listen."

"You harlot!" Sam's father screeched.

At that Jack flew out of the bed and pinned the man to the wall by his throat. He gasped as Jack's hand squeezed firmly. Wide-eyed he stared at his future son-in-law in shock. If his daughter's honor hadn't been compromised he would break the betrothal between her and this madman.

"Now, I shall remove my hand and you will apologize and leave the room. Phillippe will show you to my study where we will discuss the wedding details. I am anxious to make Samantha my wife and have you out of my home. Got is?" Jack demanded.

Samantha's father nodded and hastily murmured and apology and left with Phillippe. When they were alone again, Jack sat beside Samantha and kissed her tenderly. The sooner they were married, the better as a far as he was concerned.

"He would be shocked if he knew I had a child and was already compromised many times over," Samantha teased.

"Perhaps back in Atlanta. Here is another story," Jack responded lightly. Last night when he'd discovered Samantha's bikini wax wasn't the only thing that had changed in her physically, he'd been uncertain of what to say. However, now wasn't the time. Jack wanted to get dressed and get the wedding arranged so Samantha would be truly his at last.

"Well, if you think I'm not compromised yet, we could always-"

Jack cut her suggestion off with a kiss and stood up. "Maybe you father was right? You are a shameless creature. Right now, you will put this on and see about finding your room and a proper dress," Jack informed her, tossing her his black velvet robe. "I'm going to see if I can find anything resembling acceptable attire and get this wedding arranged."

Once she pulled on the robe, Jack took Samantha in his arms for a final kiss before she left. "Love you so much."

"I love you too, Jack," Samantha smiled and walked out of the room.

Now, Jack thought, how does one tell a woman that when she went back in time that she became a virgin again???


	19. 19

Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated and encourage me to write faster. Also this now makes over 100,000 words I've uploaded here!

Chapter 19

Jack and Samantha stared longingly at each other across the parlor. The wedding was scheduled to take place in two days and her father was insistent that they be chaperoned the entire time. Since their kiss upstairs this morning after they had been interrupted by her father and Phillippe, they had not been allowed a moment alone together. Not having physical contact was bad enough, but with a constant audience, the couple had to guard every word carefully. Eyeing Samantha's father, Jack imagined the immense joy slitting his throat would be. However, after waiting nearly a decade, he would wait for a couple days rather than risk angering her.

Noticing the irritation on his Master's face, Phillippe suggested, "Perhaps you and the Mademoiselle might enjoy a game of chess?"

The pair settled down to a game, playing slowly and contemplatively. After more than an hour and the game showing no signs of a winner, Samantha's father went on a ride. The couple now only had Phillippe and Sam's maid to watch them. As the maid dozed and the couple's conversation became more intimate, Phillippe felt awkward observing them. He was keenly aware they had their own world and that intruders weren't welcome in it.

"Viscomte?"

"What is it Phillippe?" Jack asked minorly irritated to have to deal with the intrusion.

"As the Mademoiselle's maid is sound asleep, this might be a good time for the two of you to go on a walk through the garden. It will be at least an hour before the Mademoiselle's father returns."

Jack favored his valet with a smile and stood up. In a rare display of affection for anyone but his Samantha, he laid a hand on Phillippe's arm, "Thank you Phillippe."

Thrilled to have a bit of time alone with Jack, Samantha could have kissed the valet, but knew Jack wouldn't take it well. Instead, she took Jack's arm and thanked her fiancé's servant, "An excellent idea. Thank you."

The couple exited the room arm in arm, thrilled to be alone with each other once again. A careful dash past the servants in the hallway and they were on the porch. With one hand Samantha grabbed her voluminous skirts and let Jack take her other hand. Together they ran from the manor towards the rose garden, away from prying eyes. As soon as they found a well concealed bench under an arbor of roses, they sat and kissed. Jack drew Sam as tightly into his embrace as her hoopskirt allowed.

"The next two days are going to be agony," Samantha sighed.

"Oh I think agony is rather a conservative estimate. I was thinking more like excruciating hideously painful torment that will make me long for an orange electrical cord."

Samantha laughed and then looked slightly uneasy at the reminder of Jack's murderous career back in Atlanta. While the murder didn't give her pause, the thought of Atlanta did. What would happen if they ever went back? She knew she wanted Jack at any cost, her friends and daughter seemed very distant and unimportant. But how could she get out from under the watchful eyes of the VCTF so she could be with Jack? Although he had kept his identity concealed for many years, being so close to her would put him under a microscope and she could scarcely join him in killing if their was an entourage of agents present.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked gently. "You're not having second thoughts about us or about getting married are you?"

Shaking her head, she responded, "Heavens no. I'm looking forward to being able to talk to you unchaperoned again." Laying a hand on Jack's chest Samantha looked into his eyes and added sincerely, "I think I've always been yours, even when I couldn't admit it. Destiny and fate always were a joke to me, but since coming here, I'm beginning to believe some things are simply meant to be. You're my destiny Jack."

A rapturous expression crossed Jack's face and he took her hand from his chest and pressed a kiss into her palm. Seeing his pleasure in such a small crumb of affection from her, made Samantha's heart turn over. In all the years of their game, she'd never really considered what his feelings were beyond his obsession for her. Ignoring his feelings had been simple when their game was played at a distance. Now looking into his dark eyes that had tears of gratitude swimming in them, Samantha wondered if she was worthy of his love and devotion. Once she got past the violence of his devotion, the tenderness underneath was very profound.

"Oui," Jack replied. Emotion made his French accent thick as he pressed his lips to hers and vowed, "I will love you beyond time itself."

After several kisses, Sam inquired, "Jack, what will we do if we ever go back?"

"Do you wish to go back?"

"Not especially." Samantha confessed, "I'm just worried about what would happen. If we go back, how will we handle the VCTF?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now I'm more concerned about finding my lovely fiancé a ring that isn't the size of a paper weight and how I'm going to find any time alone with her before the wedding."

"Maybe we can think of some way to get rid of my father and maid, Phillippe seems to be willing to help us." Then blushing slightly, she asked, "Did he say anything about the other night? I really would hate for you to kill him, he helped me when you were wounded and I appreciated his help."

"My valet was shocked but he seems to be coming around," Jack told her. He refrained from mentioning that he imagined the raise in pay helped soothe his conscience. If at all possible, he would allow Phillippe to live. So far, the man was the only ally they seemed to have in this time.

"I suppose we have to head back to the house."

Reluctantly, Jack agreed. As they walked back he inquired, "Do you need anything for the wedding a gown or anything?"

Samantha smiled and answered, "No, my maid showed me the dress you apparently had made for me before my arrival. I like it better than any of the other things I've found in my wardrobe. Either my father or whomever's body I'm occupying has lousy taste in clothing. Do you remember what ladies clothing was supposed to be like at this time?"

"I shall arrange for a couturier to come from Paris and make anything your heart desires," Jack laughed. After a moment he said, "I do wish I'd paid more attention to my family history. I only remember bits and pieces but I'm quite certain that I'm occupying an ancestor of mine. As for clothing, wear what you like, there's only one woman I have eyes for."

The couple returned to the house only moments before Samantha's father returned to watch the couple warily. After returning to their game of chess they played for two more hours before Jack finally triumphed over Samantha. Watching him play, Sam began to get a sense of how Jack had eluded capture for so long. Every move was carried out with great precision and seemed to allow for every possibility from his opponent. Supper followed their game and was a dreary display of manners, with five different forks alone. Sam got lost after the third fork and just managed the best she could. With amusement, she noted Jack was in his element, easily navigating through the archaic table manners and entirely unaware he was doing so.

Following dinner, the couple returned to the parlor under the gaze of the two servants and Samantha's father. When he suggested Samantha play for them, her eyes grew wide with panic. Jack smoothly suggested that he play and Samantha turn the pages for him. A few moments later Jack was seated at the harpsichord, his fingers flying over the keys, as Samantha watched in amazement. Vainly she tried to turn the pages, but she had no idea where he was at in the song.

Continuing to play, Jack assured her, "I'm playing from memory anyway. Just periodically turn the page so your father leaves us alone."

"All right," Samantha said and leaned over to turn the page on the music Jack wasn't even looking at.

Being treated to an eyeful of cleavage, Jack groaned slightly and broke into another piece to try and distract himself.

"Jack!" Samantha hissed. "You can't play that it won't be written for nearly a hundred years."

"Not like anyone knows that."

"Jack!"

Looking wickedly at his outraged fiancé, Jack launched into an antiquated arrangement of Past the Point of No Return from Phantom of the Opera. Samantha tried to muster and angry look but instead burst out laughing. Instantly Jack stopped and looked at her, savoring the moment. When her father began to clear his throat loudly, Jack began to play again, this time sticking to things that were familiar to the time. But as he played he began to consider what to give Samantha for a wedding present...


	20. 20

Author's Note: Reviews encourage me to write faster.

Chapter 20

Jack smoked one of the improvised cigarettes, he'd rolled with cigar paper. Exhaling into the night he considered all the events of the last few days. Days before he'd stood on this verandah and challenged Gaspard to a duel. At the thought of the Marquis, Jack's eyes narrowed as he considered the man who had dared to insult his Samantha. While his honor had officially been settled in the duel, Jack felt the incident warranted a more personal touch. Watching the smoke curl into the darkness, he began to consider how to make Gaspard pay and a cruel smile twisted his sensual mouth.

Killing the footman to test the play of the fencing foil and causing the coachman's death had been necessary but not especially satisfying. Samantha's killing the doctor had been a delight and Jack had reveled in it; but he found he was longing for a good kill. The Marquis though, would strictly be a maim and torture job, being related to a historical figure Jack didn't dare kill him for fear of disturbing history. Jack cared little about the future of the world, but he would do nothing which could jeopardize his life with Samantha or that would undo the day he first saw her and fell in love with her.

Samantha had gone upstairs at her father's insistence and was being attended by her maid. Idly, Jack wondered if her servant offered any distraction or conversation for her. At least his valet seemed to possess some wit. Although, all day, Phillippe had been staring strangely at him. Jack dismissed all thoughts of the servants, if any got in his way he would kill them and with luck most would remain alive. All that mattered right now was his Samantha and their wedding. Once they were married, they could be alone and-

Damn! Jack thought. How in the hell was he going to talk to Samantha before their wedding and let her know she was a virgin? Briefly he considered feigning ignorance and acting surprised, but that Jack decided would be a great way to make her hate him. Funny, he used to envy Tom being her first and now Jack felt awkward at the idea of being her first. Worse still, he feared she might decide not to let him touch her given her new state of purity. Not that she'd acted very pure this morning, Jack smiled. Hell, he'd lived through a duel, eluded capture for nearly a decade, and gotten Samantha to love him, how hard was it to deal with a virgin?

Walking up to his room, Jack paused wistfully in front of Samantha's door, he desperately wanted to kiss her goodnight but knew her maid was likely standing guard. Just as he had many times in Atlanta he paused in front of her door and closed his eyes, willing the image of his beloved before him. Reaching out he pressed his fingers to the door, trying to touch a small part of Samantha's essence. Sighing as old feelings of loneliness settled over him, Jack consoled himself with the fact that his Samantha loved him and that soon they would be married.

Jack pushed his bedroom door open and was slightly surprised not to find his valet waiting for him, though he didn't mind. If they remained in the 1700's, Jack would likely keep him on in appreciation of his help, but truthfully he preferred to dress himself. Undressing, Jack looked at the assortment of fine white linen nightgowns that gentlemen were supposed to wear. What he wouldn't give for some pajamas for night and jeans for day! Ignoring the gowns, Jack settled on the black velvet robe.

Sitting by the fireplace, he poured a glass of brandy from the decanter. Mentally he began to list all the things he would have to think about acquiring if he and Samantha remained here for long. He ought to check with Phillippe about his finances in the morning. Doubtless he had an estate agent of some sort, but Jack felt he could trust Phillippe to be discreet. Before the wedding he really ought to find a little more out about just who he was. While he was certain he was occupying the body of an ancestor, Jack was uncertain as to just which one and if he was giving Samantha his money and title, he ought to at least know what he was offering her.

As Jack watched the flames, he didn't notice the bookcase sliding open to reveal a door. A creak on the floor had Jack reaching for his sword and made Phillippe yelp in surprise.

"Philippe, what is the meaning of this?"

"I brought someone who would like to say good-night to you."

Behind Phillippe, Samantha slipped in from the secret passage and smiled, "I missed you."

Jack dropped his sword to the floor with a clatter and caught Samantha in his arms, "I missed you too. I think I would have died if I hadn't seen you again tonight."

Oblivious to Phillippe's embarrassment, Jack captured Samantha's mouth and kissed her deeply. The couple quickly got caught up in the spell of one another, when the valet interrupted, "I will leave you alone, but I have to get the Mademoiselle back in her room in about half an hour. Since you're getting married in two days time, please try to remain dressed while I'm gone."

The couple laughed as the valet disappeared through the secret passageway. Jack pulled Samantha into his lap in the chair and brushed his lips against hers.

When they finally broke their kiss, Jack asked, "So are you still sure about marrying me?"

"Quite certain. I can't wait to be Mrs.-" Samantha trailed off. "Who in heck are you anyway?"

"Here or in Atlanta?"

"Both," she smiled and pushed her hands under his robe to caress his smooth chest.

"In Atlanta I'm Albert Jackson Newquay and I go by Jack. Here? I'm Viscomte something and my name seems to be Jacque something. Tomorrow I'm going to do some investigating into who we're both supposed to be. Guess you're married name here remains a mystery. If we make it back to Atlanta, you can be Mrs. Newquay if you like."

"Samantha Newquay," she tried the name on her tongue. "I guess there's worse things to be called."

"Don't like it?" Jack asked concerned.

Pressing a kiss to Jack's mouth, Samantha reassured him, "I love the man who the name belongs to and will wear it happily."

"Suppose we could find a new last name."

"Like what?"

"Well, we could be the Rosenblooms," Jack teased. Samantha giggled as he continued, "Or we could be the Kildares."

Samantha groaned as his suggestions went on to include the Gorys, the Bloodsworths, and Rippers. Jokingly she suggested, "Why not make it a little more obvious and legally change your last name to Trades?"

"Why not?" Jack agreed.

"Jack I'm not serious!"

"I am, the last thing in the world the VCTF would ever suspect is a guy actually named Trades."

The couple had a laughing fit as they discussed the shortcomings of her co-workers and finally abandoned chatter for kissing.

"Samantha there's something I need to tell you. I-"

"Pardonne moi, Mademoiselle, but your maid will be wondering where you are if I don't get you back soon."

"Phillippe, what is my fiancé's last name?" Samantha asked.

Seeing the confused expression on his valet's face, Jack told him, "Go ahead and tell her."

"Your fiancé is Viscomte Jacque de Tous Commerces, Mademoiselle."

Jack began to howl with laughter, as Phillippe translated, "In Anglais, it would be Viscount Jack of all Trades."

Samantha began to laugh as well. Phillippe watched the pair in confusion as they laughed until tears ran down their faces. Something strange was going on, the valet decided. At last the couple stopped laughing and kissed goodnight. As Phillippe lead Samantha through the secret passage, Jack realized he still hadn't told Samantha about her re-virginalized status. Then his thoughts turned to the name his valet mentioned and to the secret passageway. Jack decided he and Phillippe needed to have a long talk...


	21. 21

Author's Notes: Now that Death of Innocence is completed, I plan to focus primarily on this story until it's completed. At present I'm working on getting this story posted with artwork at Profiler Fans and will also get it on my website soon. Reviews are very much appreciated and inspire me to write more.

Chapter 21

Jack clenched his fists in an effort to refrain from killing Samantha's father when he refused to let him take Samantha on a walk without two chaperones. Although he would have liked to kiss her, more than anything he simply needed to talk to her and Jack needed privacy to approach the delicate topic. Sighing he merely offered Samantha his arm as her lady's maid and Phillippe trailed behind them. Walking through the manicured greenery, Jack would have enjoyed the scene before them had it not been for their attendants.

Phillippe would give them privacy but Samantha's maid was a rather pinched faced old maid who took her duties very seriously. Mentally Jack made a note to get rid of the woman either by firing her or killing her at the first possible opportunity. Once he leaned close to Samantha to try and whisper in her ear to arrange a secret meeting later in the day to talk, but before he got three words out the maid started clearing her throat in a deliberate and disapproving manner. Looking miserably from Samantha to their chaperones, Jack thought it was ironic he could outwit a federal agency but not one over zealous prude.

Walking up to Jack, Phillippe whispered in his ear, "I'll distract the maid for you and the mademoiselle, if you care to make a break for it."

Offering Phillippe a grateful smile, Jack watched closely as Phillippe began to flirt with the dour woman and make her smile. Seizing his opportunity, Jack took Samantha's hand and lead her through the formal garden and past the chapel, stopping at last in a wild rose garden with a white marble pavilion that was nearly obscured by vining roses. Before Jack could speak, Samantha reached up and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him. Rational thought fell away as their lips met and Jack unthinkingly let Samantha pull him to the pavilion floor on top of her.

It was a scene Jack had fantasized many times, his Samantha kissing him and the scent of roses surrounding them. However in his wildest dreams he never would have envisioned them ending up in the 1700's and her an innocent again. Remembering what he needed to tell her, Jack gave Samantha a kiss and raised up on his elbow.

Before Jack could speak, Samantha proposed, "Let's get married here among the roses instead of in the chapel."

"I suppose we could," Jack responded unenthusiastically.

"Suppose? I thought you liked roses!"

Laughing gently, Jack responded, "I do very much."

"Then why can't we get married here?"

"We're lucky we're getting married at all, I had to send a servant to Paris for a priest. Seems my confession before the duel frightened the estate priest off."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," she mused. Then asked, "so why don't you want to get married here?"

"This is one of the few parts of the estate that remained intact after the revolution and I remember when I saw this place as a boy, they called it the Death Pavilion. One of my ancestors took his life here."

Gazing into Jack's eyes, Samantha smiled and entreated, "Doesn't that seem oddly appropriate?"

"I guess, I just want everything to be perfect for you," Jack responded.

Pulling his mouth to hers, Samantha murmured, "It already is."

As they kissed, Samantha moved her hand cautiously over Jack's groin to avoid the injury on his thigh. Caught up in the moment, Jack responded enthusiastically kissing down the column of Samantha's throat. For several moments his mouth hovered over the swells over her breasts at the top of her gown, before finally pulling away.

"We need to stop, my Samantha," Jack panted his french accent husky with desire.

"Jack we're getting married in another day and I hardly think I have to worry about you backing out," she teased.

Smiling slightly, Jack dropped a brief kiss on her mouth as he said, "I know that, but there is something important I have to tell you first."

Samantha's brow furrowed as she considered his words and she demanded, "Are you married?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I already know you're a murderer, so I know that isn't what you have to tell me."

"No Samantha it's not-"

"Are you gay?"

"No, I-"

Interrupting him, Samantha said, "I mean just because you stalked me doesn't mean you want to sleep with me and-"

Cutting her off with a growl, Jack corrected her, "I am not now, nor have I ever been married or gay. I pursued you because I love you and because I love you I wish very much to sleep with you. But before we're intimate there's something important I have to tell you."

Jack stood up and offered Samantha a hand up. Sitting on a bench he plucked nervously at a rose vine on a column nearby, he looked hesitantly at Samantha as she dusted herself off. Since their arrival they had grown closer as he'd always hoped they would and he was afraid Samantha's restored innocence could put a barrier between them. While she had wanted to sleep with him the night they met in Atlanta, that didn't mean she would wish to give him her virtue now.

Seeing the play of concern on Jack's face, Samantha sat down on the bench beside Jack and took his hand and encouraged him, "Tell me."

Taking a breath, Jack inquired, "Do you remember telling me that you were, uh- waxed back in Atlanta?"

When she nodded, Jack continued, "And do you remember me telling you my scar from you shooting me was gone when you commented on my earrings missing?"

"Yes, I remember. Either it changed when we came back here or we're occupying someone else's bodies. You told me this place belonged to an ancestor of yours, so maybe we're in our ancestor's bodies," Samantha suggested.

"I'm leaning towards the ancestral theory. But Samantha, things are different here in the 1700's then in our time. This is a time when women of the nobility were sheltered and chaperoned until marriage."

When she gave him a confuse look, Jack sighed, "Samantha, unmarried ladies of the upper class are chaste. The other night when I touched you-"

"So you're saying I'm a virgin?"

"Yes," Jack replied.

For several moments Samantha didn't respond. Her face inscrutable, Jack's heart sank. It was foolish to have ever imagined he was good enough for her. The few kisses and caresses he'd received from his Samantha were more than he deserved and she probably regretted them.

She didn't want him, he decided and he reassured her, "I understand that it changes everything. You don't have to worry that I'll expect to consummate our marriage."

"So you love me but aren't going to sleep with me?" Samantha asked incredulously.

Standing up, Jack told her, "So it seems. I'm heading back to the house, I'll see you later."

As Jack walked away, Samantha stared as him as he disappeared from view as hot tears began to fall. After all this time, he loved her but didn't want her. It didn't make sense and it hurt terribly. Wrapping her arms around herself, she began to cry harder. Phillippe had been coming to warn the couple that their chaperone would likely find them soon, when he found Samantha crying.

"Mademoiselle? What is wrong?"

Nothing and everything she thought miserably.

"Is there anything I can do? Shall I fetch the Vicomte for you?"

Looking up at Phillippe through watery eyes, Samantha noted his eyes were dark like Jack's. For whatever reason, Jack didn't want her because she was a virgin. But he had wanted her before he knew she was a virgin again. Maybe-

"Yes, there is something you can do, Philllippe. I need you to fuck me," Samantha sniffed.

Phillippe looked panicked and shocked as she spoke. Proper unmarried ladies didn't know that word and while upper class ladies slept with servants, not one as in love as the mademoiselle. Uncertainly he sat down and suggested, "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she denied and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief he held out to her. Looking into his eyes, her misery over Jack swelled anew and she sobbed, "He doesn't want me."

Phillippe sat uneasily as she began to sob out the entire story and his expression went from concern to understanding...


	22. 22

Author's Notes: I'm going to try and resume daily updates again. Reviews are very much appreciated and help to inspire and motivate me to update.

Chapter 22

As Jack walked towards the house, he stopped and turned back towards the pavilion. While he had a couple days to absorb the fact he was occupying his ancestor's body and Samantha was a virgin, she had not. Maybe he had overreacted and she simply needed a few minutes to consider what he told her. After all these years of waiting for his Samantha, he couldn't give up so easily. One way or another he would charm, coax or seduce her into becoming his in every way. Even if she wouldn't admit him to her bed immediately, without her friends influence he could perhaps persuade her in time.

Walking back towards the pavilion, Jack stopped short behind a trellis of climbing roses as he heard the damning words fall from Samantha's lips, "Yes, there is something you can do, Phillippe. I need you to fuck me."

Jack turned from the pavilion and walked away, Samantha's words echoing in his mind. There was no point in waiting for Phillippe's response, what man would refuse such a request? So much for hoping Samantha would give him a chance, she barely learned of her restored innocence and was offering it to his valet. Later, perhaps he would kill Phillippe, but his heart hurt too much to do justice to the matter at the moment.

Returning to the house, Jack went into the study and shut the door. Sitting at the desk, he poured himself a large glass of brandy from a decanter and lit one of his improvised cigarettes. Smoke curled around him as he exhaled and he stared at the amber liquid in his glass. He would stick around long enough to give her the protection of his name and then- Jack was uncertain of what he would do, but he couldn't stay and watch Samantha with other men. True he'd killed Tom and had a hand in Coop's demise, but how many would he have to suffer through watching her with and then kill?

But could he leave Samantha? From the moment he saw her, he loved her and knew she was his. Any doubts had been settled when she killed the doctor. No, he couldn't give up on her, Jack concluded. Since they ended up in the 18th century, things had been chaotic, but it was a golden opportunity and he couldn't waste it. In Atlanta Jack had been the master of the game because he set the rules and designed the board. It was time he regain control, time and location may have changed, but not the game. The rules remained the same and the only rules, were his rules.

Taking a drink, Jack noted with annoyance the absence of roses from his desk and the absence of images of his Samantha. While there weren't photographs, he would have to see about having her painted. Searching through his desk, Jack found paper, quill and ink. He might might not have his computer, but he could still get organized and the sooner the better. Pushing aside the pain of Samantha's betrayal, Jack focused on making plans.

Several hours later, Jack had filled many sheets of paper, when Phillippe entered the room and bit out, "We need to talk."

Clenching his jaw, Jack stood up and countered, "Do we now?"

"I want to know what the hell is going on," Phillippe demanded.

"I believe that would be my line," Jack responded and scowled at his valet. "If you are hear to tell me about my fiancé asking you to service her, then spare me because I overheard her request."

"I see, so is it to be swords at dawn?"

"More like I'll eviscerate you in your sleep tonight," Jack replied with a vicious smile.

Ignoring Jack's threat Phillippe walked up to Jack and retorted, "You're a fool if you imagine Mademoiselle Samantha actually meant that. If you'd stayed to listen to the rest of our exchange, you would have heard her sobbing because she's convinced you don't want her."

"What do you mean not want her! How in God's name could she think that!"

"Telling her you don't plan to consummate your marriage may have something to do with it," Phillippe speculated dryly.

Picking up his glass from the desk, Jack drained the contents as he considered his valet's words. When Samantha hadn't responded he'd taken it as rejection and had tried to be gentlemanly about giving her an out. Had he inadvertently hurt her instead? Jack was disturbed, both by the idea of hurting her and that he'd so misread her. He always knew what his Samantha was thinking, how could he have misjudged her emotions so completely?

"Phillippe, what's wrong with me?" Jack asked. Then continued, "Samantha and I are the same. Why is it I'm suddenly misunderstanding her?"

"Perhaps because you're getting married in two days time?" Phillippe offered. "It is my understanding that when a couple marries, if love is part of the equation that it can muddy the waters of rational thought."

Jack sat down and poured himself another glass of brandy, then poured one for Phillippe and motioned for him to sit in one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. "Perhaps you're right. Tell me, are you married Phillippe?"

Phillippe's eyes narrowed and he studied Jack as he responded, "No, Viscomte I am not."

"Jack."

"Pardonne moi, Viscomte?"

"When we're alone or in the presence of Samantha, you may drop the title and call me Jack."

"Very well, Jack," Phillippe agreed, carefully masking the suspicion in his eyes.

Picking up one of his lists, Jack requested, "I'd like you to arrange to have my study filled with roses at all times and have one long stemmed rose placed on Samantha's pillow with the thorns every day, starting tomorrow morning when the maid makes her room up."

"I'll speak to the butler for you and convey your wishes, Vis- er- Jack."

"Good," Jack responded and drew lines across those two items on his list. Then he continued, "Next I'd like your opinion of my estate manager, is he honest and discreet?"

Considering for a moment, Phillippe answered, "Honest yes, but discreet no."

"Have to see about remedying that."

Phillippe took a sip of his brandy, something seemed very odd, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Something had felt off for days, ever since the night of the engagement announcement. It wasn't all pre-wedding jitters, both the Viscomte and the mademoiselle had been acting peculiarly. Between the murderous escapade with the doctor and his master seeming put off by his fiancé's virginity, something wasn't right and it was gnawing at Phillippe.

"Who would you say is the best portrait painter in all of France?" Jack inquired, breaking Phillippe's reverie. "I wish to find an artist who can do justice to my Samantha."

"Are you teasing me?"

Jack looked slightly annoyed as he replied, "Don't be ridiculous. I want to have Samantha painted by a great portrait artist."

"Who are you and what the hell have you done with my brother?" Phillippe demanded, slamming his glass down on the desk.

"Brother? How would I know anything about your brother?"

"You of all people should know," Phillippe shot back.

Standing up, Jack commanded, "Explain yourself."

"My brother or rather half-brother is the greatest painter in France."

"Excellent, I'll commission a portrait of Samantha from him. Who is he?"

"You," Phillippe retorted...


	23. 23

Authors Notes: The characters mentioned as ancestors of Jack in Regency England and in the Old West will eventually be Skewed Romance stories as well. I plan to write a couple Jack and Samantha historicals since I'm the only one who has written them in this manner and it hasn't been done to death as a plot bunny. Reviews are greatly appreciated. I would really like to know that you're reading and enjoying this story.

Chapter 23

Jack stared at Phillippe and wondered if there was any validity to his claim. While he had no problem with eliminating a servant, he was hesitant to eliminate someone from his family tree and risk ending his own existence. Phillippe's hair was a close shade to Jack's honeyed locks and he had a similar aqualine nose, but were they related? When his gaze met Phillippe's, Jack had all the confirmation he needed. Phillippe's eyes resembled his own and were very much like his father's had been.

Although he seldom justified or explained himself to anyone, Jack feared he would have to at least attempt to do so with Phillippe. While he'd liked Phillippe as his valet and had planned to let him live, the fact he was blood made it imperative he keep him alive. Supposedly the lineage was legitimate, but in an age where masters bedded maids and mistresses bedded footman, Jack didn't wish to risk ending his existence in the future. Peace with Phillippe was potentially a matter of survival.

As Jack was considering the situation, Phillippe demanded, "What exactly is going on?"

"I don't honestly know," Jack responded.

"Who exactly are you and where the hell is my brother? Is this sorcery?" Phillippe questioned. When Jack remained silent, Phillippe stood and yelled, "Answer me damn it! Or by God, I'll go to the murderous mademoiselle's father and have you brought before the King for practicing the black arts!"

Unable to help himself, Jack began to laugh. He was so unused to anyone standing up to him, let alone threatening him. The absurdity of the situation struck Jack as hilarious and he laughed helpless as Phillippe looked at him in confusion. Phillippe had expected anger or fear in response to his threat, not amusement. Perhaps he would have been better served to go to the Englishman with his concerns instead, but he'd wanted to keep the matter discreet for his brother's sake.

At last, Jack composed himself and became serious as he confessed, "I truly cannot say where your brother is, but if you'll sit down I'll tell you what I know."

Reluctantly, Phillippe complied, his expression suspicious as he crossed his arms and snapped, "Fine. Start talking."

Jack struggled to keep from laughing again at Phillippe's expression as he began, "My name is Jack Newquay and I believe I'm one of your descendants."

Phillippe's expression remained frozen as he said, "Go on."

"The night of the ball, I was attending a museum gala in Atlanta, the Colonies," Jack clarified. "At the party in the 20th century, I was with Samantha and we were standing in front of a painting by Commerces- your brother. Violence erupted at the party and I placed myself in front of Samantha when I was shot and then a bullet hit her as well. Last thing I remember is seeing Samantha's face and blood spattered on the painting. Then everything went black. Next thing I knew I was here."

"And how did you conclude you're my descendent?" Phillippe inquired with dismay as he tried to consider the tale. "Your name is Newquay."

"In the future, I saw the ruins of this place-"

"Ruins?"Phillippe interrupted.

"It was destroyed in the Revolution in 1793-"

"There's a Revolution in four score and two!"

Sighing, Jack nodded and admonished, "Yes, but do cease interrupting me and allow me to finish my account."

"Sorry," Phillippe apologized, his mind reeling.

Pouring them each another glass of brandy, Jack took a drink before resuming. "I saw the ruins of the place, the only thing that remained where the ruins covered in roses and the Death Pavilion."

Phillippe took a gulp of brandy and bit his tongue to keep from asking about the death pavilion. The tale was incredible and impossible, yet it would explain much. How had the mademoiselle known how her blood and the mold would save Jack's life? And while his half brother loved the mademoiselle, he would have never braved a duel, but then the mademoiselle would have known better than to follow Gaspard onto the terrace. Was no longer herself as well?

"Shortly before the revolution, the Commerces abandoned their home in France and moved to England. Don't know much except Jacque the 3rd married Samantha Fraley amid a scandal in the early 1800's and they had a granddaughter eventually named Gillian. The Newquay name was acquired when Gillian S. Commerces married Black Jack Newquay, an outlaw and gambler in 1850 in during the Gold Rush in the west," Jack told the incredulous man.

After pausing to light one of his cigarettes, Jack exhaled a cloud of smoke and continued, "Only one Commerces painting survived the Revolution, a painting known as _Portrait of Love_. The painting was at the museum and I believe that it somehow was part of what transported us here and into the bodies of your half-brother and his fiancé. I had a scar on my thigh from a bullet wound back in Atlanta and it's gone and Samantha seems to have be uh- altered as well physically."

Phillippe drained his glass and moved his lips in an effort to speak as he poured himself another glass brandy and downed it in rapid succession. Unable to find his voice, Phillippe sat staring at Jack. The story simply couldn't be true and yet Phillippe could feel it was the truth. While the body before him was that of his half-brother, the man inside was not.

"May I ask you something now?" Jack inquired. When Phillippe nodded, Jack proceeded, "When did you know I wasn't your half-brother? And why the devil are you my valet?"

Now it was Phillippe's turn to be amused as he responded, "I knew something was amiss from the start, but couldn't quite place what was wrong. I'm your- his valet because I'm illegitimate. Our- my, is okay if I just say our? This is damn confusing."

"By all means."

Phillippe proceeded, "Our father, the Viscomte had an affair with his wife's ladies maid and I was the result. When Jacques' mother died in childbirth, less than half a year after my birth we were raised together. But Jacques never let me forget my place and always demanded I address him by his title."

"Ah, so you knew because I told you to call me by my name tonight," Jack ventured.

Phillippe nodded, "That and for the first time in my life, I actually liked you- him."

A moment later, Phillippe inquired, "Do you think this is permanent?"

"I'm not certain. For one thing I have no idea exactly how we ended up here other than that it's connected to the painting. Another problem is the painting won't exist until nearly a year from now. I can sketch a little but I've never been much of a painter," Jack informed him.

"Suits me just fine," Phillippe shrugged nonchalantly. While he'd pursued the matter out of familial duty, this was still family and to his mind, far more agreeable.

The pair sat in a companionable silence for a moment before Phillippe requested, "Tell me more of this Revolution and the Gold Rush you Mention. I should very much like to know and for that matter, what the hell is this Death Pavilion you spoke of?"

"Soon Phillippe, but first I need to find my Samantha and discuss the matter of our wedding night," Jack told him and left Phillippe to absorb all he'd learned...


	24. 24

Author's Notes: Reviews inspire me to write more and are tremendously appreciated.

Chapter 24

As Phillippe tried to absorb all Jack had told him, Jack went looking for Samantha and was pleased to find her alone in the salon. Her back was turned and she was looking out the window. For a moment he just watched her, enjoying the sight of her before slowly coming up behind her. When she turned her head towards him, Jack was upset by the red and puffy appearance of her eyes. Clearly she'd been crying and he was to blame, he thought miserably.

"What do you want?" she bit out.

Reaching out he took her hand in his and place a kiss on her palm as he murmured, "Forgive me."

Pulling her hand away from him, Samantha turned her back to him and said in a tight voice, "Don't apologize, Jack. Obviously you don't want me and that's fine. I mean the only reason we were getting married was for convenience."

"Convenience?" Jack asked in disbelief.

Turning to him, Samantha replied, "If you don't desire me physically, then what else are you marrying me for except some sense of obligation to protect me? That's a marriage of convenience, is it not?"

"My darling Samantha, you are anything but convenient," Jack drawled and moved toward her.

How dare he make fun of her! Samantha thought angrily. Jack rejecting her was hurtful enough, she didn't think she could bear him teasing her as well. A lump formed in her throat and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep from crying for long. Bad enough that Jack could probably tell she'd been crying, but she certainly wasn't about to let him see her cry. Samantha had to get away before she lost her composure.

"Don't mock me," she bristled and walked away from him.

Jack followed behind her and called out, "Samantha."

"What!" Samantha snapped, stopping but keeping her back to him.

"One thing before you run off." Jack placed his hand on her shoulder.

Slowly she turned around and prompted, "What is it?"

Pulling her tightly against him, Jack responded, "This."

Covering her mouth with his, Jack silenced Samantha's protests with a kiss. For a moment she remained stiff and unyielding in his arms, then began to respond as he continued to plunder her mouth. Gently thrusting his tongue against hers Jack kissed her until they both were short of breath. When he lifted his face from Samantha's she looked at him with a slightly bewildered expression and he lead her to a large settee and pulled her down on it with him.

"Jack, I don't understand," Samantha gasped slightly as his eyes met hers and his hand moved to cup her breast.

"When I told you about your restored virginity, I was afraid you didn't want me anymore because you considered me unworthy of you," Jack confessed. Then he added, "I went back to the Death Pavilion to talk to you, but you were asking Phillippe to uh- deflower you."

"Oh no!" she cried. "Jack I was just hurt and wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't really mean that. Phillippe refused and I wouldn't have gone through with it even if he hadn't."

"I know, when I spoke to Phillippe, he suggested that we're both suffering from pre-wedding nerves."

"He's probably right," Samantha agreed. Suddenly she demanded, "You didn't kill him did you?"

Laughing Jack replied, "No sweetness, he is very much alive."

"I'm glad," she smiled. Then her expression grew serious and she entreated, "Tell me what you would have said if Phillippe hadn't been there."

"I wanted to say, Samantha, that I am willing to wait. Forever if need be," Jack assured her. Then added, "But I want you very much and hope you will allow me to eventually consummate our marriage."

"You didn't mean that you didn't want me?"

Capturing her lips, he whispered, "I'll always want you my Samantha. In this time you are a virgin, in our time you've been with several men, but in both times I want you and I know in my heart that you belong to me and me alone."

"You're sure?" Samantha pleaded. She wanted to believe him but after her earlier emotional upheaval, craved reassurance.

"God yes," Jack groaned as he kissed her. Guiding her hand to where his arousal strained against his pants, he breathed softly, "I want you very much. But I understand if you wish to wait for while."

Wait for a while? Samantha thought dizzily. She didn't want to wait another day, let alone any significant length of time. Everytime Jack touched her, the world fell away and all she could think of was him. While restored virtue might mean she would want him to be a little more gentle than she might normally want him to be, it didn't change anything. Oddly the idea of giving her virtue to Jack meant more than it had meant giving it to Tom. After all the times Jack had declared they were the same, couldn't he see that he was the only worthy man?

Samantha pushed Jack so his head was resting on the arm of the settee and she leaned over him and kissed him. Although they had shared many kisses since their meeting in the museum, this was the first time she'd been the aggressor. Mating her tongue with his, Samantha mentally cursed the complicated fastenings of their clothing and the voluminous petticoats which stood between them.

Lifting her mouth from Jack's, Samantha panted, "After the wedding, no more waiting Jack. As far as I'm concerned we've both been waiting for many years."

"You mean you-"

"I've always wanted you Jack. Our mental dance scared me at times and the fact I wanted you terrified me. But Jack, I've always been yours. You're the only man who ever has been worthy. I'll gladly give you my virtue in this time and wish I could have back in our time."

"No marriage of convenience?" Jack ventured hopefully.

Turning his words on him, Samantha laughed, "My dearest Jack, you're anything but convenient."

Grinning, Jack pulled her mouth back to his...


	25. 25

Author's Notes: Reviews are appreciated, it's nice to know that you're reading and enjoying the story.

Chapter 25

Samantha moaned against Jack's mouth as his hand navigated through her complex petticoats and found the soft flesh of her thighs just above her stockings. With each caress, his hand moved closer to her sex and she arched towards his hand. Twisting onto their sides to allow better access, they continued their explorations. Samantha stroked Jack through his pants as his hand cupped her wetness.

Locked in a tight embrace, Jack and Samantha were oblivious as her father entered the room and his outraged cry interrupted them, "Get your hands off my daughter!"

Dragging her mouth from Jack's, Samantha shot her father a venomous look and struggled to get up. Her skirts were thoroughly tangled as she had been moving against Jack. Jack tried to help her get untangled and the two fell off the settee and onto the floor in an undignified heap. Despite the frustration of being interrupted, the pair began to laugh at the absurdity of their position.

"This is no laughing matter!" Samantha's father spluttered.

Although irritated, Jack knew the man was acting the way any decent father would have in the 18th century. Forcing a contrite expression, Jack stood and apologized, "Do forgive us, we got slightly carried away."

Samantha's father offered her his hand to help her up and she ignored it, pulling herself off the floor. The hurt expression on his face made her feel guilty. As far as he was concerned she was his innocent daughter and he was merely trying to look after her. While the interruption was frustrating, she knew it had been out of care and concern.

Laying a hand on his arm, she said gently, "I'm sorry, I'm just very anxious to be married to Jack."

The man's face changed instantly and he kissed Samantha's cheek as he mused, "Well the wedding is tomorrow."

Seeing the smoldering glances his daughter and Jack exchanged, he admonished, "However I will ask that you restrain yourselves until after the wedding."

The couple sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"Perhaps you should both see about changing for dinner," Samantha's father suggested. Then added, "Separately."

Jack and Samantha headed upstairs to change and paused to exchange a lingering kiss in the hallway before heading to their rooms. As they broke apart, Samantha's ladies maid spotted them and drug Samantha away scolding her as she did. While she helped Samantha changed, she continued to scold her until Samantha felt like snapping the woman's neck. Having someone to help her dress was a regrettably necessity due to the complexity of her clothing, but she resolved to have Jack hire someone else as soon as possible.

When Jack entered his room, he found Phillippe waiting for him, though his usually formal valet had abandoned his cravat and had a glass of brandy in hand. As soon as he saw Jack he apologized, "Sorry, Viscomte."

Smiling, Jack laughed, "It's quite all right, Phillippe. Things don't have to be formal between us in private. If you're agreeable, I'm much more interested in having you as my advisor than my valet."

"Yes, sir."

"Jack," he corrected.

"Jack, it's just that-"

"You have a million questions and cannot decide which to ask first?" Jack ventured.

Nodding, Phillippe agreed, "Exactly."

"I will answer what I can Phillippe. But try to understand, some things I will not be able to answer for your own peace of mind and to preserve the way things are in my time." Jack told him as he began to select clothing. As he began to undress, he added, "And until the wedding is over and certain tensions are resolved, my patience level is rather low."

"Quite," Phillippe commented with a grin as Jack fought to get his knee breeches fastened over his partially aroused manhood.

Once Jack finished dressing, he went downstairs where Samantha was waiting with her father and her ladies maid. Over dinner, Jack and Samantha exchanged longing glances across the length of the table as they sat through the myriad of courses. The estate's informal dining room boasted a table that was twenty feet long and it kept them far apart. Once they were married, things would be done a bit differently, Jack decided.

Married! Tomorrow he was going to marry his Samantha! The surrealness of their surroundings and their situation had been eclipsing the wonder of the fact he was going to marry his Samantha. As they rose from the table, Jack abandoned any attempt at propriety as he strode towards Samantha and kissed her. Ignoring the loud squawks of her ladies maid, Jack held Samantha tightly. When he raised his mouth from hers he shot her father an apologetic glance.

"What was that for?" Samantha asked breathlessly.

"It just hit fully hit me that we're getting married tomorrow," Jack murmured, continuing to hold her tightly.

"And a good thing too," Samantha's father grumbled.

Remaining in Jack's embrace, Samantha offered, "At least you can rest easily knowing I'm marrying well and that I'm happy."

Samantha's maid demanded, "Release my charge immediately."

Ignoring the maid, Samantha's father dismissed her and sent her upstairs. With a sigh he inquired, "If I allow you two an hour to take a turn about the garden, will you promise to restrain yourselves?"

"Thank you!" Samantha smiled and kissed his cheek.

Hand in hand, Jack and Samantha practically ran from the room and headed out to the gardens. In the rose garden, they sat down on a bench and gazed at the reflecting pool in the fading light. Neither said anything for several minutes as they sat in silent communion holding hands and staring at the water. Basking in being close and no disapproving chaperone near by, they watched the sunset.

Finally Jack remarked, "It's very different from Atlanta."

"Yes it is," she agreed.

"Are you- that is could you ever be happy here?" Jack hesitated softly.

Turning to Jack, Samantha countered, "What do you mean, _could_ I be happy here? I _am_ happy here."

"Life is different here."

Placing a brief kiss on Jack's lips, Samantha confessed, "In some ways I think I like life better here."

"And why is that?" Jack whispered as he gazed into her eyes.

"Why do you think?" Samantha breathed softly.

"Us?"

Wrapping her arms around Jack, Samantha answered him by pressing her lips to his, drawing him into a languid kiss that seemed to go on for hours...


	26. 26

Author's Notes: Reviews are appreciated and make me write faster.

Chapter 26

Lying in bed, sleep eluded Jack. Tomorrow he would wed his Samantha at last and they would be bound in this time, but what would happen if they ever went back to their time? Samantha said it didn't matter, but he feared it would be a different story when confronted with her friends and co-workers. For that matter, Jack thought, he wasn't sure he would survive if they went back.

Before everything had gone black in the museum, he'd felt more bullets hit his body. Samantha would likely be all right, only one bullet passed through him and into her, as far as he knew. His body had shielded hers, but Jack knew at least three bullets had struck him and that made his chances of survival very slim. So going back to their time wasn't necessarily good for his well being.

At the same time, Jack couldn't help but wonder, what had brought them here? He knew it had to be connected somehow to the painting, but what exactly had happened? Had they been transported to another time? Were they in heaven? Heaven didn't seem too likely since he doubted they would be occupying his ancestor's bodies in heaven. After he married Samantha, they would have to try and solve the mystery of how and why they were there, then decide whether to stay or try and find a way back.

Although things had been difficult with the duel and it's aftermath, Jack found he was quite content. Hearing his voice with a French accent when he spoke took some getting used to and the clothing was somewhat aggravating to wear. However, Jack decided, having Samantha in his arms made it more than worth while. His Samantha was stunning in the 18th century fashions even if they were challenging to navigate, it was nice seeing her dressed like a woman instead of the dark suits she wore like armor. Some adjustments would have to be made if they remained to make life more comfortable, but all in all he wouldn't mind staying.

Shortly before dawn, sleep claimed Jack at last and he slept until Phillippe appeared with a breakfast tray saying, "Good morning, Jack. Ready to get married?"

Smiling Jack responded, "As soon as I have a bit of coffee. Any sign of the priest yet?"

"A messenger arrived about an hour ago, Father Marc Valois is going to arrive by 1 PM and is willing to perform the ceremony at 4 PM," Phillippe informed him.

"Perhaps I should skip the breakfast tray and dine with Samantha."

Shaking his head Phillippe declared, "Non. The mademoiselle gave me strict instructions that I was to keep you above stairs until 1 PM and then once I was certain she was hidden in her room, then you may go below stairs. She said I was to tell you quote un quote, that you may not see her until the wedding and that if you try it will be a marriage of convenience for at least a week."

Jack laughed and took a sip of coffee and accepted an improvised cigarette and a light from Phillippe. Taking a deep puff, Jack looked at the clock and smiled. It was 10 AM in six hours, his Samantha would be his wife. She would look like an angel and they would say their vows under the roses at the Death Pavilion. The Death Pavilion, Jack thought wryly, what a place for him to marry his Samantha.

Which one of his ancestors had died there? Jack mused. All he could remember was that it was a Marquis who killed himself. Since his title was Viscomte, it must have been some time in the future when a higher title was acquired. It didn't really matter though, it was part of the family history when he was a boy so it had to be destined. As long as he married his Samantha that was all that mattered and it didn't matter why the Death Pavilion would receive it's nickname.

Phillippe's voice brought Jack from his thoughts as he said, "I must insist you allow me to help you dress. To the world I am still your valet and I will not have word getting back to Paris that you were anything but perfectly attired at your wedding."

Jack submitted to Phillippe's demand and allowed his distant relative to assist him into an ivory satin frock coat and knee breeches for the occasion. Although Jack did put his foot down when Phillippe attempted to persuade him to powder his hair. There were some concessions to the time period Jack refused to make and powdering his hair was one of them. The only way he would powder his hair or don a wig would be if he was forced to attend a function attended by the King where to do otherwise would be considered an insult.

"So Jack, where are you taking the mademoiselle for a wedding trip?" Phillippe inquired as he fought with Jack's cravat.

"I'm not sure Phillippe. Perhaps Paris, back in our time Samantha loved Paris and was prevented from traveling there."

"What prevented her from traveling to Paris?"

As Phillippe fussed over Jack and then followed him downstairs to await the priest's arrival once Samantha was upstairs, Jack told Phillippe the highlights of his relationship with Samantha. With wide eyes, Phillippe listened as Jack described killing Samantha's husband and later supervising Sharon killing Coop. Phillippe couldn't decide what was more remarkable Jack killing so many people in the name of love or the notion of women wearing pants and holding jobs.

Shortly after 1 PM, the priest arrived and grilled Jack about the particulars of the wedding and why his priest left. After handing over a large sum of money, the priest was more than happy to perform the ceremony and with added funds agreed to let Jack and Samantha make additional vows of their own and to be married outside instead of in the estate's chapel.

When it was at last time to head to the Pavilion, Phillippe followed Jack. Since Jack had no friends in the 18th century, he requested Phillippe do the honors. At the Pavilion, Jack paced around restlessly as they waited for Samantha. The priest was there staring blankly at the surroundings and Phillippe was getting dizzy watching Jack pace about.

"The mademoiselle will be here soon, Viscomte," Phillippe assured him, opting to use Jack's title in the presence of the priest.

"I know Phillippe, but you cannot imagine how important today is for me. For nearly a decade, I've waited for this moment," Jack replied.

At last Samantha appeared, her father and ladies maid flanking her on either side, a bouquet of red roses with thorns clutched in her hand. Jack smiled as she approached and the priest asked, "Are you ready to begin, Viscomte?"

"Yes," Jack answered.

Samantha's maid moved to stand by Phillippe as her father placed Samantha's hand in Jack's. As the priest began speaking, Jack's heart raced as he stared into Samantha's eyes. Dressed in ivory, she looked the way Jack had always dreamed she would when she became his wife. For so many years he'd prayed for this moment and even though it hadn't come about in quite the way he'd imagined, Jack was ecstatic.

As she stood holding Jack's hand a sense of euphoria and freedom washed over Samantha. Being free of the constraints of the VCTF and her nosy but well meaning friends was a wonderful feeling. Although she would have resisted the notion and never admitted it before coming to the 18th century, she always knew she belonged to Jack, Samantha realized. Whether in this time or back in theirs, her place was with Jack. Gazing at Jack, Samantha smiled and realized she was happier today than she had been on the day she married Tom. Jack was her destiny.

Once the traditional vows and rings were exchanged, the Father Marc announced in a disdainful tone, "The Viscomte requested that he be allowed to make additional vows of his own wording."

Ignoring the presence of the others, Jack vowed, "My Samantha. I have waited for this moment for a very long time. From the day I first saw you I loved you. For all time, I am yours and yours alone. My life is yours my Samantha."

When Jack finished, the priest said, "If there's nothing else-"

"Actually there is," Samantha interrupted. "I have something I want to say to Jack."

"Very well," Father Marc sighed in a pained tone.

Facing Jack, Samantha promised, "For a long time I was afraid to let myself love you because loving you meant facing all of who I am. Being with you made me realize I shouldn't be afraid of being who I'm meant to be, but rather I should fear being something I'm not. I've loved you for longer than I was aware of. And as you said to me, I say to you. For all time, I am yours and yours alone. My life is yours my Jack."

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen," the priest declared as he signed the cross.

Once they were pronounced married, Jack didn't wait for permission to kiss Samantha. Taking her into his arms he kissed her and held her for several moments. Then Samantha's ladies maid began to cough loudly as Samantha in turn gave Jack a lingering kiss, which made the priest turn away blushing...


	27. 27

Author's Notes: Reviews are very much appreciated and inspire me to update faster.

Chapter 27

Jack and Samantha exchanged glances across the table as they sat uneasily through dinner with her father. Following the meal he would be leaving for Calais and they would finally be alone. Although the newlywed couple were very polite and were gracious about the toasts her father offered them, they were very anxious to be alone. Phillippe and Samantha's maid sat at the table in honor of the occasion as well. Now and then Phillippe would offer Jack a sympathetic expression.

Although the meal seemed to go on forever, when they finally moved to the dessert course, Phillippe rose from the table. Walking to Jack he whispered in his ear that he was going upstairs to oversee the special requests Jack had made earlier in the day. Jack nodded and thanked Phillippe, as Samantha sat uneasily wishing her father would hurry and take his leave.

Sitting near Samantha, Jack felt a combination of anticipation and concern. While he was anxious to consummate his relationship with Samantha, he was worried about hurting her. On the one hand he couldn't wait to make Samantha his in every way but he was almost dreading it at the same time. Taking a drink of champagne he watched his wife and was rewarded with a smile. Jack wondered what she was thinking as they sat waiting.

At last Samantha's father stood up from the table and requested the coach be brought around for him. While kissing his daughter good-bye, he gave Jack a meaningful look as he requested, "I'd like you to walk with me to the coach."

"Of course," Jack replied. Turning to Samantha, he whispered, "I'll be back in a moment."

"I think I'll go upstairs while I wait for you," Samantha murmured.

Reluctantly, Jack followed his father-in-law outside and inquired, "Was there something you wanted?"

"I-" the older man started to speak and trailed off in a stammer.

The sudden awkwardness of Samantha's father's demeanor made the nature of his concern obvious and Jack interjected, "I love Samantha and will look after her always. You needn't worry, I plan to be a very uh- indulgent husband."

Jack's words had the desired effect and Samantha's father smiled at his reassurance. While the man was not the wisest of men, he cared deeply about his daughter and Jack was willing to offer him as much comfort as Jack could as the man about to take Samantha's virginity. When the coach lurched off into the night, Jack turned back to the house and headed inside with a nervous exhilaration coursing through him.

While Jack saw her father off, Samantha went to the master suite where they would sleep. The room was filled with candles and vases of roses filled the room. A carpet of rose petals lead from the doorway to the bed and a single long stemmed thorny blossom adorned her pillow. Draped over a chair was the filmy white nightgown her maid had laid out for her and Samantha hesitated. On the one hand Jack had seen her naked already and the gown would be in the way, on the other hand Jack had seemed slightly nervous at dinner.

As Samantha debated, there was a knock at the door and called out, "Come in."

The door opened to reveal a maid who looked to be about Samantha's age and she smiled shyly. "Mademoiselle? Pardonnez, Madame Viscomtesse, I meant to say. Phillippe said I should help you change for the night. He thought perhaps your ladies maid should have the night off."

Given the lectures about sin and closing her eyes and thinking of England she'd been treated to earlier by her maid as she dressed for the wedding, Samantha gratefully accepted, "Thank you. I'd like that-"

"Marie," the maid supplied. Stepping into the room she looked around and declared, "Tres belle! Phillippe told the Viscomte wanted the room to be very romantic."

Samantha smiled and allowed Marie to help her out of her gown and into the nightgown. As Samantha changed, Marie prattled on about how lucky Samantha was and gossiped about the goings on of the house. By the time Marie left, Samantha decided to talk to Jack about elevating her to her ladies maid. However, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking up the rose, Samantha thought with a smile, it might be a couple days before she got around to it.

Standing outside the door, Jack hesitated about if he should knock or not. After several moments, he knocked once and opened the door. Walking into the room, his breath caught. Amid the soft glow of candles, Samantha sat on the bed in a sheer white gown holding a rose and a carpet of petals lead to the bed. Although he'd dreamed of seeing her this way many times, his heart raced as she looked up at him.

"Samantha," Jack breathed softly.

Looking at her husband, Samantha realized he was slightly nervous. Rising from the bed, Samantha sat the rose down on a side table and walked to Jack. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she drew his mouth to hers. At first their kiss was light and tenuous, then it deepened and Jack held Samantha tightly. As they kissed, Samantha untied Jack's cravat and pulled it off. As the fabric fell to the floor unheeded, Jack slipped his shoes off and Samantha removed his frock coat.

Pulling away from Jack, Samantha moved to the bed and invited, "Join me."

Jack removed his waistcoat as he approached the bed and began to unbutton his shirt. When his shirt was partially unbuttoned, Samantha reached up and pulled him down onto the bed. Their lips met as Samantha's hands moved over the remaining buttons of Jack's shirt. Sliding her husband's shirt off, Samantha tossed it away from the bed. Jack's mouth trailed from her lips to her neck.

Moving his lips over the column of her throat, Jack whispered, "My Samantha."

"Take everything off, Jack," Samantha commanded gently.

Jack complied and removed his pants as Samantha requested. As she watched, Samantha felt flicker of desire in the pit of her stomach. For so long they had engaged in their game and tonight would be a culmination of years of mental foreplay. Just before the duel, Jack had said the board had changed but the game remained the same. When Samantha killed the doctor it was another level of the gave still.

Each level drew her closer to Jack and tonight she would become his in every sense of the word. Rising up slightly, Samantha removed her nightgown and cast it aside. There would be no more barriers between them, Samantha decided. Whether they ever went back to Atlanta or stayed in France, the one thing she was certain of was that she belonged with Jack.

Joining Samantha on the bed, Jack drew her into a tender embrace and explored her mouth with his. Both of them trembled slightly at the first electric contact of their bare skin. Samantha moaned softly against Jack's mouth as his fingers splayed across her breast tracing a sensual pattern that brought her nipple to a rigid peak. Slowly he moved his lips down her neck, his breath hot and sweet on Samantha's sensitive skin.

"My Samantha," Jack purred sibilantly as he moved his mouth from one breast to the other, tracing his tongue over her other rosy peak.

When Jack's fingers brushed over the soft curls between Samantha's legs she gasped softly and pulled Jack's mouth back to hers. Whimpering as his fingers teased her wetness, Samantha arched underneath Jack's touch. Pleasure mounting, Samantha cried out as Jack stroked her to a searing climax. For several moments she clung to him as she trembled from his caress.

Almost uncertainly, Jack gently covered Samantha's body with his. Although the feeling of her wetness against his arousal had made Jack almost painfully hard, he was concerned about continuing. Samantha could feel Jack's desire for her pressing against her and could sense his hesitation. While she knew their first time might not be too comfortable, she wanted to feel him inside her. Gazing up at Jack, Samantha tilted her hips slightly to position him at her entrance.

"I love you, Jack," Samantha reassured him as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him firmly inside of her.

Jack's eyes went wide with shock as Samantha took matters into her own hands and drew his arousal inside her. Her face registered some discomfort but her gaze never left his face. Gently, Jack caressed Samantha's face and took in every nuance of her expression. Time seemed to stand still in the silence as their eyes remained locked, adding to intimacy of their union that had been so many years in the making

"It's better now," Samantha murmured encouragingly.

Rising up on his knees, Jack pulled back slightly but remained joined with her. He moved his hand between them and began to gently stroke her clit. Tenderly and almost tenuously he skimmed her arousal with his thumb. After several moments Samantha began to pant as Jack's touch renewed the feeling of urgency within in her.

"Jack, please," Samantha urged.

Slowly Jack moved over Samantha and held her tightly as he began to move within her. Although Samantha still felt a little tender, the sensation of Jack stretching and filling her was wonderful. Jack's movements were lethargic and unhurried but as Samantha began to meet his thrusts, he increased their tempo slightly. As they coupled, Jack slid his hand between them and coaxed Samantha to the edge. His cries mingled with hers as they climaxed.

Kissing Samantha tenderly, Jack rolled onto his back pulling her with him...


	28. Chapter 28

Author's Notes: Sorry for the break in between updates. There will be more very soon.

Chapter 28

The sun was starting to rise when Jack and Samantha at last surrendered to sleep and they slept until nearly noon. Waking up first, Jack stretched contentedly and watched Samantha as she slept. Although he'd watched her sleep without her knowledge many times in Atlanta, this was very different from observing her through a surveillance camera. Samantha rolled onto her side burying her face in Jack's shoulder and he smiled as he watched his wife.

His wife, Jack thought happily. It had taken the better part of a decade and a trip to the 1700's to win her over, but at long last she was his. Watching the glint of the sunlight on her hair, Jack mulled over what to give her for a wedding gift. In the time before their wedding things had been chaotic and a present had been far from his mind; but now Jack's mind turned towards what to get for Samantha. Nothing ordinary would do for his wife, Jack decided.

As Jack decided, Samantha moved under the covers and brushed his cock with her hand. Instantly aroused, Jack gazed at her and decided the caress had been accidental. Resuming his thoughts about her wedding gift, Jack tried to ignore as her hand moved over his shaft again and then wrapped around in a deliberate movement. His breath caught and he looked at his wife. Although her eyes were closed, Samantha had a wicked grin on her face and Jack knew she was pretending to sleep.

Deciding to play along, Jack surrendered to her touch and brought his hand up to caress her nipples. Rubbing them to hard points, then gently pulling them, until Samantha's eyes shot open as a moan escaped her lips. Last night had been about consummating their marriage and expressing years of unspoken love, this morning was about pure lust as Jack devoured Samantha's lips and left her breathless.

Throwing the covers back so they were out of their way, Jack rolled Samantha onto her stomach and moved behind. Slowly sliding into her sex, he covered her back with his chest and turned her head to the side so he could kiss her. They moved slowly at first as Jack allowed Samantha's body to become accustomed to the intensity and angle of the position.

Moving faster, he wrapped his arm underneath Samantha to steady her and his hand glided to her clit. She mewled with pleasure and buried her face in the pillow as he brought her to a searing peak. Holding and stroking her, Jack waited for her to recover from her climax and withdrew from her. Urging Samantha onto her back, Jack drove his erection into her fevered slit with rapid and confident strokes until they both came hard and lay gasping.

As he withdrew from her sex, she winced slightly and he asked worriedly, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Wrapping her arms around him, Samantha nuzzled her face against his and assured him, "I'm fine. A little tender but nothing out of the ordinary."

"Just checking. A man has to take care of his wife you know," Jack confided teasingly. Then he added, "I've imagined this a thousand times and this is beyond anything I ever dreamed of."

Lying limply in Jack's arms, Samantha panted, "We should have done that a long time ago."

"Indeed," Jack agreed and pressed a kiss to her temple.

There was a knock at the door and Samantha frantically grabbed the covers as an amused Jack called out, "Who is it?"

"Phillippe," a muffled voice on the other side of the door replied.

After making certain Samantha was covered, Jack invited Phillippe in. Behind Phillippe were two footmen bearing silver trays laden with food and wine that they set on a table under Phillippe's guidance. As soon as the trays were sat down, Phillippe dismissed the footmen. Keeping his eyes on Jack's face, Phillippe cautiously approached the bed.

"I hope you don't mind Visco- er Jack, but I took the liberty of having something prepared, I thought perhaps you might not wish to take formal meals today."

Casting a glance at Samantha who hid her face sheepishly against his shoulder, Jack responded, "You thought correctly. Thank you Phillippe."

"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave," Phillippe suggested with a wink and left the room.

"Alone at last," Jack murmured to Samantha and moved to kiss her.

Pulling away she playfully inquired, "What about the food?"

"Are you asking to eat or suggesting we use it in a more pleasurable way?" Jack pressed in a seductive tone moving to cup her breast.

"Oh no you don't," Samantha declared pushed his hand away.

"It's our honeymoon and a groom should focus on his bride's pleasure," he countered.

Kissing him on the cheek, Samantha climbed over him and grinned, "Right now your bride is hungry and food is the current pleasure at the front of her mind."

With an amused expression, Jack watched Samantha pull on a sheer white dressing gown and flounce over to the trays. Throwing off the covers, Jack grabbed his deep navy silk dressing gown and joined her. Samantha sat on a small settee and had a plate in her hand which she smiled up at Jack from. He started to sit on the settee and she stretched out so Jack had to sit in a chair opposite. Although Jack enjoyed having physical contact with her, he was content to watch her. Watching Samantha with her knowledge and willingness was a novelty for Jack. Picking up a plate, Jack ate slowly, gazing intently at his wife.

"Are you happy, my Samantha?" Jack asked hesitantly.

"Mmmm," Samantha stretched luxuriantly and purred. "Very very happy."

Pleased, Jack pressed, "How would you feel if we never got back?"

"Back?" she gave him a quizzical look. Then realized his meaning and replied, "To be honest I haven't given Atlanta any thought for the last couple of days."

"Because of the wedding," Jack supplied.

Considering, Samantha shook her head and explained, "In part I suppose. But somehow Atlanta and life there seems very far away."

Sitting his plate down, Jack poured a glass of wine. Sipping thoughtfully, he commented, "Right now my bride seems very far away."

"I'm across the room," she giggled coquettishely, moving so her robe parted slightly.

Samantha felt happy and flirtatious for the first time in a long time. When they came to the 1700's despite the troubles, she felt a sense of liberation. Here she was free of censorous but well meaning friends and she could allow herself to embrace her desires. From killing a man to marrying Jack, she was oddly content with the way things were turning out. Looking at her new husband, Samantha decided their being thrown into the past was the best thing that ever happened to her.

"We're on our honeymoon," Jack pointed out with a wicked smile.

"Are we?" she countered saucily. "I thought a honeymoon meant a trip."

Laughing, Jack shot back, "What do you call going back more than 200 years in time?"

Samantha considered and when she could think of no good answer shrugged and stuck her tongue out at him. Her childish display pleased Jack tremendously. At one time he wondered if she would ever let him into her life enough to speak to her. Today, they were newlyweds bantering playfully. They were good for each other, he realized happily. Not only did he have his Samantha, but she was genuinely happy! While Jack always knew he could make her his, actually having her and seeing her happy, was amazing.

After a moment of laughing and contemplation, Jack ventured, "I might be inclined to take my beautiful bride on a trip, if it would please her."

"I was only teasing, Jack."

"I'd already thought of it, Samantha. You have but to name the place and we shall go."

Samantha sat her plate down and suggested, "Paris?"

"Of course," Jack agreed, standing up he moved the table from between the settee and the chair.

"What are you doing? I wasn't done," Samantha feigned protest as she slid down a little on the settee invitingly.

"You sat your plate down," Jack pointed out.

"Maybe I wanted dessert," she lied. Truthfully she was stuffed, but she felt like playing and taunting Jack a bit.

Jack untied his robe and let it fall to the floor. His arousal jutting out as he knelt and began to move towards her, murmuring, "Maybe we both want dessert."

When he reached her, she kept her thighs firmly closed. Jack reached for the tie on her dressing gown and pulled it loose. Reaching up with with one finger, he lightly skimmed the contour of her breasts and trailed his finger over her stomach, eliciting a soft whimper. Leaning forward, Jack circled her navel with his tongue.

Pulling back Jack looked up at her imploringly and breathed seductively, "I'm so hungry, my Samantha."

Unable to feign resistance any longer, she parted her thighs and moaned as Jack began to caress her sex with his tongue...


End file.
